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OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 


COMMODORE  BYRON  MCCANDLESS 


AY  UNCLE 


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15y  Jean  De  LEX  Bretc 


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DODD./AEIAD  6?  COMPANY 

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MY  UNCLE  AND  MY  CURE 


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MY  UNCLE  AND  MY  CURE 


TRANSLATED   FROM  THE  FRENCH 


OF 


JEAN    DE     LA    BRETE 


BY  ERNEST  REDWOOD 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  GEORGES  JANET 


NEW  YORK 
DODD,   MEAD  AND  COMPANY 

1892 


Copyright,  1892, 
BY  DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY. 


All  rights  reserved. 


JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDGE. 


MY    UNCLE    AND    MY    CURE. 


CHAPTER    I. 

T  AM  so  small  that  one  might  call  me  a  dwarf,  were 
not  my  head,  my  feet,  and  my  hands  in  perfect  pro- 
portion to  my  figure.  My  face  has  neither  the  undue 
length  nor  the  absurd  breadth  which  one  associates  with 
dwarfs,  and  with  deformed  persons  in  general ;  and  the 
daintiness  of  my  extremities  would  be  envied  by  more 
than  one  beautiful  woman. 

Nevertheless,  my  diminutive  figure  has  made  me  pour 
out  tears  in  secret.    I  say  in  secret,  because  my  liliputian 

i 


My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 


body  encloses  a  soul  haughty,  proud,  and  incapable  of 
showing  its  wounds  to  the  first  comer,  —  above  all,  to  my 
aunt.  Such  at  least  was  my  way  of  thinking  when  I  was 
fifteen.  But  the  incidents,  the  troubles,  the  cares,  the 
joys,  —  in  a  word,  the  affairs,  —  of  life  have  broadened 
rapidly  characters  much  more  rigid  than  mine. 

My  aunt  was  the  most  disagreeable  woman  I  have  ever 
known.  She  was  very  ugly,  so  far  as  I  could  judge,  who 
had  seen  nothing,  and  had  no  standard  of  comparison. 

Beside  her  I  had  the  appearance  of  a  gnat,  of  an 
ant.  When  I  spoke  to  her  I  had  to  raise  my  head  as 
high  as  if  I  wished  to  examine  the  top  of  a  poplar. 
She  was  of  plebeian  origin,  and  like  many  of  that 
class  considered  physical  strength  above  everything, 
and  professed  for  my  puny  person  a  disdain  which 
crushed  me. 

Her  disposition  was  a  faithful  copy  of  her  physique. 
It  was  made  up  of  irregularities,  asperities,  and  sharp 
corners,  against  which  the  unfortunates  who  lived  with 
her  ran  every  day. 

My  uncle,  a  country  gentleman  whose  stupidity  had 
become  a  proverb  in  the  place,  had  married  her  through 
weakness  of  mind  and  character.  He  died  a  short  time 
after  his  marriage,  and  I  never  knew  him.  When  I 
came  to  think  it  over,  I  attributed  his  premature  death 
to  my  aunt,  who  seemed  to  me  strong  enough  to  put 
speedily  underground  not  only  one  poor  fellow,  like  my 
uncle,  but  a  whole  regiment,  even,  of  husbands. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 


I  was  two  years  old  when  my  parents  went  to  the 
other  world,  leaving  me  to  the  caprice  of  the  events  of 
life  and  of  my  relatives.  They  left  a  goodly  remnant 
of  a  large  fortune,  about  four  hundred  thousand  francs 
in  land,  which  brought  in  a  very  fair  revenue. 

My  aunt  consented  to  bring  me  up.  She  did  not  love 
children,  but  she  was  poor, —  for  her  husband  had  man- 
aged his  affairs  badly,  —  and  she  bethought  her  with  sat- 
isfaction that  comfort  would  come  into  her  house  with  me. 

What  an  ugly  house,  —  large,  dilapidated,  built  in  the 
midst  of  a  court  full  of  manure,  mud,  fowls,  and  rabbits  ! 
Behind  stretched  a  garden  in  which  all  the  plants  in 
creation  crowded  one  another,  pell-mell,  without  any  one 
caring  for  them  the  least  in  the  world.  I  believe  that 
in  the  memory  of  man  no  one  had  seen  a  gardener  trim 
the  trees  or  weed  out  the  useless  plants,  which  increased 
according  to  their  fancy,  while  it  never  occurred  to  my 
aunt  and  me  to  busy  ourselves  with  them. 

This  virgin  forest  displeased  me,  because  even  as  a 
child  I  had  an  innate  taste  for  order. 

The  place  was  called  Buisson.  It  was  situated  in 
the  heart  of  the  country,  half  a  league  from  the  church 
and  a  little  village  of  some  twenty  thatched  cottages. 
Neither  chateau,  castle,  nor  manor  was  within  five 
leagues  in  any  direction.  We  lived  in  the  most  com- 
plete isolation.  My  aunt  sometimes  went  to  C ,  the 

town  nearest  Buisson.     I  wished  keenly  to  go  with  her, 
consequently  she  never  took  me. 


My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 


The  only  incidents  in  our  life  were  the  arrival  of  the 
farmers,  who  brought  their  indebtedness  or  their  rents, 
and  the  visits  of  the  cure. 

Oh,  what  an  excellent  man  the  cure  was !  He  came 
to  the  house  three  times  a  week,  having  undertaken,  in 
a  moment  of  great  zeal,  to  cram  my  head  with  all  the 
learning  known  to  him. 

He  followed  up  his  task  with  perseverance,  although 
I  understood  how  to  put  his  patience  to  the  test.  Not 
that  I  was  a  blockhead,  —  I  learned  easily;  but  laziness 
was  my  darling  sin.  I  loved  it,  I  coddled  it,  in  spite  of 
the  cure's  expenditure  of  eloquence  and  the  many 
efforts  he  made  to  tear  this  plant  of  Satan  from  my 
soul. 

Then,  and  this  was  the  most  serious  point,  my  ability 
to  argue  developed  rapidly.  I  entered  into  discussions 
which  irritated  the  cure ;  I  assumed  opinions  which  often 
offended  and  clashed  with  his  dearest  convictions. 

It  was  a  keen  pleasure  to  me  to  contradict  him,  to 
tease  him,  to  take  a  stand  opposed  to  his  ideas,  his 
tastes,  his  arguments.  This  stirred  my  blood  and  kept 
my  mind  on  the  alert.  I  suspect  that  he  had  the  same 
feeling,  and  that  he  would  have  been  in  despair  had  I  lost 
all  at  once  my  cavilling  ways  and  my  independence  of 
thought. 

But  I  never  laid  them  aside,  because  when  I  saw  him 
stir  in  his  seat,  run  his  hands  through  his  hair  in  despair, 
and  smear  his  nose  with  snuff,  —  forgetting  all  the  laws 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 


of  propriety,  a  forgetfulness  that  came  only  when  the 
case  was  serious,  —  nothing  could  equal  my  satisfaction. 

Nevertheless,  if  he  alone  had  been  concerned,  I  fancy 
that  I  should  sometimes  have  resisted  the  demon  of  a 
tempter.  My  aunt  had  taken  the  baleful  habit  of  being 
present  at  the  lessons,  although  she  understood  nothing, 
and  yawned  ten  times  an  hour. 

Contradiction,  even  when  her  ugly  self  was  not  con- 
cerned, put  her  in  a  fury,  —  a  fury  all  the  greater  that 
she  did  not  dare  to  say  anything  before  the  cure.  Then, 
to  see  me  argue  seemed  to  her  something  abnormal  in 
the  physical  and  moral  order  of  things.  I  never  attacked 
her  directly,  because  she  was  brutal  and  I  feared  her 
blows.  Lastly,  my  voice —  though  I  flatter  myself  that 
it  is  sweet  and  musical  —  produced  upon  her  auditory 
nerves  a  disastrous  effect. 

In  such  case  it  will  be  understood  that  it  was  im- 
possible, absolutely  impossible,  for  me  not  to  be  mali- 
cious enough  to  set  to  work  to  enrage  my  aunt  and 
torment  my  cure. 

Nevertheless  I  loved  him, — this  poor  cure.  I  loved 
him  dearly;  and  I  know  that  in  spite  of  my  absurd 
arguments,  which  sometimes  reached  impertinence,  he 
had  the  greatest  affection  for  me.  I  was  not  only  the 
chosen  one  of  his  flock,  I  was  the  child  of  his  adoption, 
his  work,  the  daughter  of  his  heart  and  mind.  With 
this  paternal  affection  was  blended  a  tinge  of  admiration 
for  my  capabilities,  my  words,  and  my  acts  in  general. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 


He  had  taken  his  task  to  heart.  He  had  sworn  to 
instruct  me,  to  watch  over  me  as  a  guardian  angel, 
notwithstanding  my  obstinacy,  my  logic,  and  my  whims. 
And  this  task  had  at  once  become  the  sweetest  thing 
in  his  life,  the  greatest,  if  not  the  only,  distraction 
in  his  monotonous  existence. 

Through  rain,  wind,  snow,  hail,  heat,  cold,  and 
storms,  I  used  to  see  the  cure  appear,  his  cassock 
tucked  up  to  his  knees,  and  his  hat  under  his  arm.  I 
do  not  know  that  in  all  my  life  I  ever  saw  him  with 
his  hat  on.  He  had  a  way  of  walking  with  head  un- 
covered, smiling  at  the  passers-by,  at  the  birds,  at  the 
trees,  at  the  blades  of  grass.  Round  and  plump,  he 
seemed  to  rebound  from  the  ground  which  he  trod  with 
a  quick  step,  and  to  which  he  seemed  to  say,  "  You 
are  good,  and  I  love  you."  He  was  happy  to  be  living, 
content  with  himself  and  with  all  the  world.  His 
kindly  face,  ruddy  and  fresh,  surrounded  with  white 
hair,  used  to  recall  those  late  roses  which  still  blos- 
som under  the  first  snows. 

When  he  entered  the  court,  fowls  and  rabbits  ran 
at  his  voice  to  nibble  some  crusts  of  bread  which  he 
had  been  careful  to  slip  into  his  pocket  before  leaving 
the  presbytere.  Perrine,  the  milkmaid,  made  a  cour- 
tesy; then  Suzon,  the  cook,  hastened  to  open  the  door 
and  show  him  into  the  salon,  where  we  took  our 
lessons. 

My  aunt,  planted  in  an  armchair  with  the  grace  of 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 


a  rather  thick  lightning-rod,  rose  at  his  approach,  bade 
him  welcome  with  a  surly  air,  and  began  at  a  gallop 
on  the  subject  of  my  misdeeds.  After  which,  seating 
herself  as  stiff  as  a  poker,  she  took  her  knitting,  her 
favourite  cat  on  her  knees,  and  awaited,  or  did  not  await, 
an  occasion  to  say  something  disagreeable  to  me. 

The  worthy  cure  heard  with  patience  her  harsh,  ear- 
piercing  voice.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  if  the 
reprimand  were  for  him,  and  threatened  me  with  his 
finger,  half  laughing.  Dieu  merci,  he  had  known  my 
aunt  a  long  time!  We  settled  ourselves  at  a  little 
table  which  we  placed  near  the  window.  This  position 
had  a  twofold  advantage,  in  that  it  removed  us  far 
enough  from  my  aunt,  who  sat  in  state  near  the  hearth 
at  the  end  of  the  room,  and  at  the  same  time  allowed 
my  eyes  to  follow  the  flights  of  the  swallows  and  the 
flies,  and  in  winter  to  note  the  effect  of  the  snow  and 
the  hoar-frost  on  the  trees  of  the  garden. 

The  cure  placed  his  snuff-box  beside  him,  a  checked 
handkerchief  on  the  arm  of  his  chair,  and  the  lesson 
began. 

When  my  laziness  had  not  been  too  great,  every- 
thing went  well,  at  least  while  he  was  correcting  my 
exercises ;  for  although  they  were  as  short  as  possible, 
they  were  always  done  with  care.  My  handwriting  was 
clear  and  my  style  easy.  The  cure  would  nod  his  head 
with  an  air  of  satisfaction,  take  snuff  enthusiastically, 
and  say  over  and  over,  "  Good !  very  good !  " 


8  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

During  this  time  I  was  mentally  counting  the  spots 
on  his  cassock,  and  asking  myself  how  he  would  appear 
if  he  had  a  black  wig,  tight  breeches,  and  a  coat  of  red 
velvet  like  that  which  my  great-uncle  wore  in  his 
portrait. 

The  idea  of  the  cure  in  breeches  and  a  wig  was  so 
amusing  that  I  would  break  out  in  a  loud  laugh. 
Then  my  aunt  would  cry,— 

"Idiot!  little  stupid!" 

And  utter  other  amenities  of  this  sort  which  were 
privileged  as  parliamentary,  as  well  as  explicit. 

The  cure  would  look  at  me,  smiling,  and  say  two  or 
three  times  over,— 

"  Ah,  youth,  happy  youth !  " 

And  a  reminiscence  of  himself  at  fifteen  would  make 
him  half  emit  a  sigh. 

After  this  we  passed  to  the  recitation,  and  matters 
did  not  go  so  well.  This  was  the  critical  time,  the 
time  for  talk,  for  personal  opinions,  for  discussions, 
not  to  say  almost  disputes. 

The  cure"  admired  the  men  of  antiquity,  the  heroes, 
and  the  almost  fabulous  deeds  in  which  physical  cour- 
age had  played  an  important  part.  This  preference 
was  strange,  because  the  cure  was  not  exactly  of  the 
stuff  of  which  heroes  are  made. 

I  had  noticed  that  he  did  not  at  all  like  to  go 
home  at  night;  and  this  discovery,  while  it  made 
me  more  fond  of  him,  because  I  was  a  great  coward 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  1 1 

myself,  left  me  no  illusion  on  the  subject  of  his 
courage. 

For  this  good,  peaceful,  tranquil  soul,  lover  of  re- 
pose, of  routine,  of  his  flock  and  of  his  own  self,  had 
never,  no,  never,  dreamed  of  being  a  martyr.  I  have 
seen  him  pale,  at  least  as  much  as  his  red  cheeks 
could  pale,  on  reading  the  accounts  of  the  tortures 
inflicted  on  the  early  Christians.  He  considered  it 
a  fine  thing  to  enter  heaven  with  the  stride  of  a  hero, 
but  he  thought  it  much  pleasanter  to  advance  peace- 
fully toward  eternity,  without  fatigue  and  without 
haste.  He  had  not  those  exaltations  which  inspire  a 
desire  for  death  in  order  to  see  the  sooner  the  Lord  of 
worlds  and  time.  No,  not  at  all !  He  had  made  up 
his  mind  to  go  without  a  murmur  when  his  time  came ; 
but  he  was  sincerely  desirous  that  this  should  be  as 
distant  as  possible. 

I  confess  that  my  temperament,  which  does  not  shine 
in  the  heroic  line,  disposes  itself  after  the  same  sweet 
and  comfortable  fashion. 

Nevertheless,  he  clung  to  his  heroes;  he  admired 
them,  extolled  them,  and  loved  them  doubtless  the 
more  that,  the  opportunity  being  offered,  he  knew  it 
absolutely  impossible  for  him  to  imitate  them. 

As  for  me,  I  shared  neither  his  tastes  nor  his 
enthusiasms.  I  experienced  a  profound  antipathy  to 
the  Greeks  and  Romans.  Through  some  subtile 
working  of  my  fantastic  intelligence,  I  had  made  up 


12  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

my  mind  that  these  latter  resembled  my  aunt, — or 
that  my  aunt  resembled  them,  as  you  please;  and 
from  the  day  when  I  decided  that  they  were  alike,  the 
Romans  were  tried,  condemned,  and  executed  in  my 
eyes. 

Nevertheless,  the  cure  persisted  in  dabbling  with 
me  in  Roman  history;  and  I  on  my  side  obstinately 
refused  to  take  any  interest.  The  men  of  the  Repub- 
lic did  not  stir  my  blood,  and  the  emperors  were  all 
mixed  up  in  my  head.  The  cure  would  exclaim  in 
admiration,  would  become  provoked,  would  argue; 
nothing  shook  my  indifference  and  my  own  conviction. 

For  example,  in  narrating  the  history  of  Mucius 
Scaevola,  I  ended  thus,— 

"He  burned  his  right  hand  to  punish  himself  for 
being  deceived,  which  proves  that  he  was  a  fool. " 

The  cure,  who  had  heard  me  a  moment  before  with  a 
satisfied  air,  started  with  indignation. 

"A  fool,  Mademoiselle,  and  why  so?  " 

"Because  the  loss  of  his  hand  could  not  make 
amends  for  his  error,"  I  answered,  "since  Porsena 
was  none  the  less  alive,  and  since  a  secretary  would 
do  no  better." 

"  True,  ma  petite ;  but  Porsena  was  so  frightened  as 
to  raise  the  siege  immediately. " 

"That,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  proves  only  that  Porsena 
was  a  coward. " 

"Even   so.     Rome   was    delivered,    and   thanks   to 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  13 

whom?  Thanks  to  Scaevola,  thanks  to  his  heroic 
deed!" 

And  the  cure,  who,  shuddering  at  the  idea  of  burning 
his  little  finger,  only  admired  Mucius  Scaevola  the 
more,  became  enthusiastic  and  strove  to  make  me  ap- 
preciate his  hero. 

"I  hold  to  what  I  have  said,"  I  answered  quietly, 
"  that  he  was  only  a  fool,  and  a  great  one. " 

The  cure  gasped  and  exclaimed, — 

"When  children  undertake  to  argue,  mortals  hear 
much  foolishness." 

"  Monsieur  le  Cure",  you  told  me  the  other  day  that 
the  reasoning  faculty  is  the  most  excellent  that  man 
possesses." 

"  Without  doubt,  —  without  doubt,  when  he  knows 
how  to  employ  it.  Then  I  was  speaking  of  a  man 
grown  and  not  of  little  girls." 

"  Monsieur  le  Cure,  the  little  birds  try  their  wings 
on  the  edge  of  the  nest." 

The  worthy  man,  a  little  disconcerted,  ran  his  hands 
through  his  hair  energetically,  which  gave  him  the  look 
of  a  wolf's  head  powdered  white. 

"You  do  wrong  to  argue  so  much,  ma  petite,"  he 
said  to  me  sometimes ;  "  it  is  a  sin  of  pride.  You 
will  not  have  me  always  to  answer  you;  and  when 
you  are  fighting  the  battle  of  life,  you  will  learn  that 
one  does  not  argue  with  it,  one  submits." 

But  I  do  not  trouble   myself   much  as  to  life.      I 


14  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

have  a  cur6  to  practise  my  logic  upon,  and  that  is 
enough  for  me. 

When  I  had  been  very  teasing,  tiring,  and  torment- 
ing, he  would  try  to  assume  a  severe  expression,  but 
he  was  obliged  to  give  up  the  attempt;  his  mouth, 
always  smiling,  absolutely  refused  to  obey  him. 

Then  he  would  say  to  me, — 

"Mademoiselle  de  Lavalle,  you  will  go  over  your 
Roman  emperors  again,  and  you  will  do  it  in  such  a 
way  as  not  to  confound  Tiberius  and  Vespasian." 

"  Let  us  leave  those  good  people  alone,  Monsieur  le 
Cure,"  I  would  answer;  "they  tire  me.  Do  you  know 
that  if  you  had  lived  in  their  time  they  would  have 
grilled  you  alive,  or  torn  out  your  tongue  and  nails,  or 
cut  you  into  little  pieces  like  the  meat  in  a  pate?  " 

At  this  gloomy  picture  the  cure  started  slightly, 
and  trotted  off  without  deigning  to  answer  me. 

I  knew  that  his  displeasure  was  at  its  height  when 
he  called  me  Mademoiselle  de  Lavalle.  This  cere- 
monious title  was  its  most  active  manifestation ;  and  I 
was  filled  with  remorse  until  the  instant  when  I  saw 
him  appear  again,  his  hair  blowing  in  the  wind  and  a 
smile  on  his  lips. 


CHAPTER   II. 

j\  /T  Y  aunt  treated  me  harshly  when  I  was  a  child, 
•*•»•••  and  I  was  so  afraid  of  blows  that  I  obeyed  her 
without  a  word.  She  beat  me  even  on  my  sixteenth 
birthday,  but  that  was  the  last  time.  After  that  day, 
so  full  of  events  of  peculiar  interest  to  me,  a  revolu- 
tion, which  for  some  months  had  been  secretly  gather- 
ing head  in  me,  broke  out  all  at  once  and  changed 
completely  my  behaviour  toward  her. 

At  that  time  the  cure"  and  I  were  reviewing  the 
history  of  France,  which  I  flattered  myself  I  knew  very 
well.  Certainly,  considering  the  omissions  and  the 
reservations  of  my  book,  my  knowledge  was  as  com- 
plete as  possible. 

The  cure  professed  a  love  amounting  almost  to  ven- 
eration for  her  kings,  and  yet  he  did  not  admire 
Francis  I.  This  antipathy  was  the  more  singular,  for 


1 6  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

Francis  I.  was  valorous,  and  is  still  a  popular  hero. 
But  he  did  not  please  the  cure,  who  lost  no  opportunity 
to  criticise  him;  consequently,  in  a  spirit  of  contra- 
diction, I  selected  him  as  my  favourite. 

On  the  day  of  which  I  have  spoken  above,  I  was  to 
recite  a  lesson  about  my  friend.  I  thought  a  long 
time  the  evening  before  how  I  might  make  him  shine 
in  the  cure's  eyes.  Unfortunately  I  could  only  quote 
the  words  of  my  history  to  sustain  my  views,  which 
were  based  more  on  an  impression  than  on  actual 
facts. 

I  racked  my  brains  for  an  hour,  when  a  brilliant  idea 
flashed  through  my  head. 

"The  library!"  I  exclaimed. 

I  instantly  ran  through  a  long  corridor,  and  entered, 
for  the  first  time,  a  room  of  moderate  size  lined  with 
shelves  covered  with  books,  all  firmly  bound  together 
by  a  multitude  of  spider-webs.  It  communicated 
with  the  rooms  which  had  been  closed  and  never  used 
after  my  uncle's  death,  and  was  so  mouldy  and  close 
that  I  was  nearly  stifled.  I  made  haste  to  open  a  tiny 
window  which  had  neither  shutters  nor  blinds,  and 
gave  on  the  wildest  part  of  the  garden;  then  I  pro- 
ceeded to  investigate.  But  how  was  I  to  find  Francis 
I.  among  all  these  volumes  ? 

I  was  about  to  give  the  thing  up  when  the  title  of  a 
little  book  made  me  cry  out  for  joy;  it  was  the  lives 
of  the  kings  of  France  to  Henry  IV.  only.  A  fair  en- 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  i  7 

graving,  showing  Francis  I.  in  the  splendid  costume 
of  the  Valois,  was  inserted.  I  examined  it  with 
astonishment. 

"Is  it  possible,"  I  said  to  myself  in  amazement, 
"  that  there  were  men  as  beautiful  as  that  ?  " 

The  biographer,  who  did  not  share  the  antipathy 
of  the  cure  for  my  hero,  praised  him  without  stint. 
He  spoke  with  an  enthusiastic  conviction  of  his 
beauty,  his  valour,  his  chivalrous  spirit,  and  of  the 
enlightened  support  he  extended  to  letters  and  the 
arts.  He  ended  with  two  lines  about  his  private 
life,  and  I  learned  that  of  which  I  was  entirely  igno- 
rant, —  it  was  this  :  — 

"  Francis  I.  led  a  joyous  life,  and  loved  the  ladies 
dearly.  He  preferred,  above  all  and  sincerely,  the 
lovely  Anne  de  Pisseleu,  whom  he  married  to  the 
Comte  d'Etampes,  whom  he  had  created  a  duke  that 
he  might  be  more  acceptable  to  her." 

From  these  words  I  drew  the  following  conclusions : 
First,  having  discovered,  within  the  month,  that  my 
life  was  monotonous,  that  I  lacked  many  things,  that 
the  possession  of  a  cure,  an  aunt,  fowls  and  rabbits, 
was  not  enough  to  create  happiness,  I  decided  that,  a 
joyous  life  being  evidently  the  opposite  of  mine,  Francis 
I.  had  shown  great  judgment  in  choosing  it ; 

Second,  that  he  certainly  practised  the  holy  virtue 
of  charity  which  my  cure  preached,  since  he  loved  the 
ladies  so  much; 


j  8  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

Third,  that  Anne  de  Pisseleu  was  a  fortunate  per- 
son, and  that  I  should  have  been  much  pleased  to  have 
a  king  marry  me  to  a  count  whom  he  had  created  a 
duke  to  be  "more  acceptable"  to  me. 

"  Bravo ! "  I  cried,  tossing  the  book  up  to  the  ceil- 
ing and  catching  it  again  skilfully,  "here  is  what 
will  confound  the  cure,  and  convert  him  to  my 
opinion." 

That  night  in  bed  I  re-read  the  little  biography. 

"What  a  gallant  man  was  this  Francis  I.  !  "  I  said  to 
myself.  "  But  why  does  the  author  speak  of  his  affec- 
tion for  ladies  only?  Why  does  he  not  say  that  he 
loved  men  too  ?  After  all,  each  one  to  his  taste ;  but 
if  I  may  judge  women  by  my  aunt,  I  think  that  I 
should  have  a  marked  preference  for  the  men." 

Then  I  recalled  that  the  biographer  was  of  the  mas- 
culine gender;  and  I  concluded  that  he  had  thought 
it  polite,  amiable,  and  modest  to  pass  over  himself 
and  his  fellows  in  silence. 

I  went  to  sleep  with  this  brilliant  idea. 

The  next  day  I  rose  in  great  good-humour.  In  the 
first  place,  I  was  sixteen  years  old ;  besides,  the  little 
creature  who  looked  at  herself  in  the  glass  saw  a  face 
that  did  not  displease  her;  then  I  made  two  or  three 
pirouettes  as  I  thought  of  the  stupefaction  of  the  cur6 
before  my  new  learning. 

In  my  impatience  I  was  installed  at  my  table  al- 
ready for  some  time  when  he  arrived,  rosy  and  smil- 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  19 

ing.  At  sight  of  him  my  heart  beat  a  little,  like 
those  of  great  captains  the  night  before  a  battle. 

"Come,  ma  petite,"  he  said,  when  the  exercises 
were  corrected  and  he  had  made  a  face  over  their  brev- 
ity, "let  us  take  up  Francis  I.,  and  examine  him 
from  all  points  of  view." 

He  settled  himself  comfortably  in  his  chair,  took 
his  snuff-box  in  one  hand,  his  handkerchief  in  the 
other,  and,  looking  askance  at  me,  prepared  to  main- 
tain the  argument  which  he  saw  was  forthcoming. 

I  entered  with  great  speed  upon  my  subject;  I  grew 
earnest ;  I  became  excited ;  I  was  enthusiastic.  I  dwelt 
at  length  on  the  qualities  extolled  in  my  history,  after 
which  I  passed  to  my  especial  bits  of  information,— 

"And  what  a  charming  man,  Monsieur  le  Cure! 
His  figure  was  majestic,  his  face  noble  and  beautiful, 
with  such  a  lovely  beard,  worn  in  a  point,  and  such 
fine  eyes!  " 

I  stopped  for  an  instant  to  take  breath,  and  the  cure, 
looking  scared  and  rising  with  a  start  like  a  Jack-in-a- 
box,  cried,  - 

"Where  have  you  picked  up  this  stuff,  Mademoi- 
selle?" 

"That  is  my  secret,"  I  said,  with  a  little  myste- 
rious smile. 

And  burning  my  ships, — 

"  Monsieur  le  Cure,  I  cannot  think  what  this  poor 
Francis  I.  has  done  to  you !  Do  you  know  that  he 


20  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

had  great  judgment?  He  led  a  joyous  life  and  loved 
the  ladies  dearly." 

Then  the  eyes  of  the  cure"  opened  so  wide  that  I 
feared  they  would  leap  from  their  sockets.  "  Saint 
Michel!  Saint  Barnabt!"  he  exclaimed,  and  let  his 
snuff-box  fall  with  so  loud  a  noise  that  the  cat, 
stretched  in  an  easy-chair,  leaped  to  the  floor  with  a 
despairing  miaow. 

My  aunt,  who  was  asleep,  awoke  with  a  start  and 
cried,— 

"Miserable  wretch!  "• 

addressing  me  and  not  the  cat  in  tnis  fashion,  and 
without  knowing  what  was  in  question.  But  this 
expression  invariably  began  and  ended  all  her  remarks. 

I  had  certainly  expected  to  produce  a  great  effect ; 
none  the  less,  I  was  taken  a  little  aback  by  the  ex- 
traordinary expression  on  the  cure's  face. 

But  I  began  again  at  once,  unconcernedly,— 

"  He  loved  especially  a  beautiful  woman  to  whom 
he  gave  a  duchy.  Acknowledge,  Monsieur  le  Cure, 
that  he  was  very  good,  and  that  it  would  have  been 
most  delightful  to  be  in  the  place  of  Anne  de 
Pisseleu." 

"  Sainte  Mere  de  Dicu !  "  murmured  the  cure,  in  an 
inaudible  voice,  "the  child  is  possessed!  " 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  cried  my  aunt,  transfixing  her  chignon 
with  one  of  her  knitting-needles;  "send  her  out  of  the 
room  if  she  is  impertinent." 


My   Uncle  and  My  Ciire.  21 

"My  child,"  said  the  cure,  "where  did  you  learn 
what  you  have  told  me?" 

"In  a  book,"  I  answered  shortly,  without  mention- 
ing the  library. 

"And  how  could  you  repeat  such  abominations?  " 

"Abominations!"  I  said,  scandalized.  "What, 
Monsieur  le  Cure,  do  you  find  it  abominable  that 
Francis  I.  was  generous  and  loved  the  ladies?  Do 
you  not  love  them,  then,  yourself?" 

"What  does  she  say?"  roared  my  aunt,  who  had 
been  listening  attentively  for  some  minutes,  and  who 
drew  from  my  question  the  most  direful  surmises. 
"  Little  brazen  face,  you  — 

"  Peace,  my  good  woman,  peace ! "  interrupted  the 
cure,  appearing  all  at  once  relieved  of  a  great  weight. 
"  Let  me  have  an  explanation  with  Reine.  Let  us 
see;  what  do  you  find  praiseworthy  in  the  conduct  of 
Francis  I.  ?  " 

"Truly,  it  is  very  simple,"  I  answered  in  a  tone  a 
little  contemptuous,  thinking  that  my  cure  must  be 
growing  old  and  slow  of  comprehension.  "  You  exhort 
me  every  day  to  love  my  neighbour ;  it  seems  to  me  that 
Francis  I.  put  in  practice  your  favourite  precept,  '  Love 
your  neighbour  as  yourself,  for  the  love  of  God. ' ' 

Hardly  had  I  finished  my  sentence,  when  the  cure, 
mopping  his  face,  on  which  rolled  great  drops  of 
sweat,  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair,  and  crossing 
his  hands  over  his  stomach,  abandoned  himself  to  a 


22  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

Homeric    laugh   which    lasted   so    long   that    tears  of 
vexation  and  annoyance  came  to  my  eyes. 

"Truly,"  I  said  in  a  trembling  voice,  "I  was  very 
foolish  to  take  so  much  trouble  to  learn  my  lesson, 
and  to  make  you  admire  Francis  I." 

"My  good  little  child,"  he  said  at  last,  regaining 
his  serious  tone,  and  using  his  favourite  expression 
when  he  was  pleased  with  me,  —  "  my  good  little  child, 
that  which  caused  me  so  much  astonishment  was  that 
I  did  not  know  that  you  felt  such  an  admiration  for 
those  who  practised  the  virtue  of  charity." 

"In  any  case,  it  is  not  a  laughing  matter,"  I  said  in 
a  sullen  tone. 

"Come,  come,  do  not  let  us  quarrel." 

And  the  cure,  giving  me  a  little  pat  on  the  cheek, 
cut  short  the  lesson,  said  that  he  would  return  the 
next  day,  and  went  to  confiscate  the  key  of  the  library, 
which  he  knew  of  without  my  suspecting  it. 

He  had  not  even  left  the  court  before  my  aunt 
rushed  at  me,  shaking  me  hard  enough  to  dislocate 
my  shoulder. 

"  Silly  wretch,  what  have  you  said,  what  have  you 
done,  to  make  the  cure  go  so  early?  " 

"If  you  do  not  know  the  reason,"  I  said,  "why  do 
you  get  angry  ?  " 

"Ah!  I  do  not  know!  Did  I  not  hear  what  you 
said  to  the  cure,  brazen  face?" 

Considering   words    not    sufficient    to    express    her 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  23 

wrath,  she  boxed  my  ears,  struck  me  roughly,  and 
turned  me  out  of  the  room  like  a  little  dog. 

I  fled  to  my  room,  where  I  barricaded  the  door 
securely.  My  first  care  was  to  take  off  my  dress,  and 
to  note  in  the  glass  that  my  aunt's  thin  and  bony  fin- 
gers had  left  blue  marks  on  my  shoulders. 

"Wretched  little  slave,"  I  said,  pointing  my  finger 
at  my  reflection,  "how  long  will  you  stand  such 
things?  Are  you  such  a  coward  as  not  to  dare 
revolt?" 

I  admonished  myself  severely  for  some  minutes; 
then,  a  reaction  coming,  I  threw  myself  into  a  chair 
and  burst  into  tears. 

"What  have  I  done,"  thought  I,  "to  be  treated  so? 
The  wicked  woman !  And  yet  why  was  the  cure"  so 
amused  while  I  recited  my  lesson  ? " 

And  I  began  to  laugh,  while  the  tears  rolled  down 
my  cheeks.  But  though  I  strove  hard,  I  could  find 
no  solution  to  the  problem. 

Approaching  the  open  window,  I  was  looking  at  the 
garden  in  melancholy  mood,  and  was  regaining  my 
self-possession,  when  I  seemed  to  recognize  the  voice 
of  my  aunt  talking  with  Suzon.  I  leaned  forward  a 
little  to  hear  their  conversation.  • 

"  You  should  be  ashamed !"  said  Suzon;  "the  little 
one  is  only  a  child.  If  you  treat  her  harshly,  she  will 
complain  to  Monsieur  de  Pavol,  who  will  take  her  to 
live  with  him." 


24  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"  I  would  like  mightily  to  see  it!  But  how  should 
she  ever  think  of  her  uncle?  It  is  a  chance  if  she 
knows  of  his  existence." 

"  Bah !  The  child  is  clever,  and  a  single  flash  of 
memory  will  be  enough  to  send  you  to  the  right  about, 
if  you  make  her  unhappy;  and  her  good  income  will 
disappear  with  her." 

"Ah!  well,  we  shall  see.  I  will  not  strike  her 
again,  but  — 

They  moved  away  and  I  did  not  hear  the  end  of  the 
sentence. 

After  dinner,  at  which  I  refused  to  appear,  I  went 
to  find  Suzon. 

Suzon  had  been  my  aunt's  friend  before  becoming 
her  cook.  They  quarrelled  ten  times  a  day,  but 
were  not  able  to  live  apart.  You  will  hardly  believe 
me  when  I  say  that  Suzon  loved  her  mistress  sincerely, 
but  that  is  the  exact  truth. 

But  if  she  forgave  my  aunt  personally  her  rise  on 
the  social  ladder,  she  doubtless  cherished  a  grudge 
against  her  fellow-creatures,  circumstances,  and  life, 
for  she  never  stopped  scolding.  She  had  a  face  bearded 
like  a  highwayman,  and  always  wore  short  petticoats 
and  slippers  without  heels,  though  she  never  went  to 
town  to  sell  the  milk,  and  had  no  more  imagination 
than  Perrette. 

"Suzon,"  I  said  to  her,  planting  myself  before  her 
deliberately,  "I  am  rich,  then?" 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  27 

"Who  has  told  you  such  stuff,  Mademoiselle?  " 

"  That  is  no  affair  of  yours,  Suzon.  I  wish  you  to 
answer  me,  and  to  tell  me  where  my  Uncle  de  Pavol 
lives." 

"  I  wish,  I  wish !  "  grumbled  Suzon.  "  She  is  no 
longer  a  child,  upon  my  word.  Go  about  your  busi- 
ness, Mademoiselle;  I  will  tell  you  nothing,  because 
I  know  nothing." 

"  You  are  not  telling  the  truth,  Suzon,  and  I  forbid 
you  to  answer  me  so.  I  heard  what  you  said  to  my 
aunt  just  now." 

"Very  well,  Mademoiselle,  if  you  have  heard,  it  is 
not  necessary  for  me  to  take  the  trouble  to  tell  you." 

Suzon  turned  her  back  on  me  and  would  not  answer 
any  of  my  questions. 

J  returned  to  my  room,  thoroughly  exasperated ;  and, 
remaining  a  long  time  leaning  on  my  elbow  at  the 
window,  I  called  the  moon,  the  stars,  and  the  trees  to 
witness  that  I  had  formed  a  firm  resolve  not  to  allow 
myself  to  be  struck,  to  no  longer  fear  my  aunt,  and  to 
devote  all  my  wits  to  making  myself  disagreeable 
to  her. 

And  as  I  dropped  the  petals  of  a  flower  which  I 
was  tearing  to  pieces,  I  threw  to  the  winds  my  fears, 
my  pusillanimity,  and  my  timidity  of  the  past.  I  felt 
that  I  was  no  longer  the  same  person,  and  I  went  to 

sleep  comforted. 

During  the  night  I  dreamed  that  my  aunt,   trans- 


28  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

formed  into  a  dragon,  fought  with  Francis  I.,  who 
slew  her  with  his  great  sword.  He  took  me  in  his 
arms  and  flew  away  with  me,  while  the  cure  watched 
us  with  a  melancholy  air,  and  mopped  his  face  with 
his  checked  handkerchief.  Then  he  wrung  it  out 
with  all  his  might,  and  the  sweat  ran  from  it  as  if  it 
had  been  soaked  in  the  river. 


CHAPTER    III. 


'THHE  next  morning  hardly  were  we  seated  at  our 

-*-  table,  the  cure  and  I,  when  the  door  opened 
with  a  crash  and  we  saw  Perrine  enter,  her  bonnet  on 
her  neck  and  her  sabots,  stuffed  with  straw,  in  her 
hand. 

"  Is  the  house  on  fire  ?  "  demanded  my  aunt. 

"  No,  Madame ;  but  the  very  devil  is  to  pay.  The 
cow  is  in  the  field  of  barley  which  is  doing  so  well; 
she  is  destroying  it  all, —  I  cannot  get  her  out.  The 
fowls  are  on  the  roof,  and  the  rabbits  are  in  the  vege- 
table-garden." 

"  In  the  vegetable-garden !  "  exclaimed  my  aunt,  who 
sprang  up,  darting  an  angry  glance  at  me,  for  the 
kitchen-garden  was  a  sacred  place  to  her,  and  the 
object  of  her  only  affections. 


30  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"  My  beautiful  fowls !  "  grumbled  Suzon,  who  judged 
it  a  propos  to  appear  and  unite  her  crabbed  note  with 
the  shrill  one  of  her  mistress. 

"  Ah,  you  jade !  "  cried  my  aunt. 

She  hurried  out  at  the  heels  of  the  servants,  slam- 
ming the  door  angrily. 

"Monsieur  le  Cure","  I  said  at  once,  "do  you  be- 
lieve that  in  the  whole  world  there  is  another 
woman  as  hateful  as  my  aunt  ? " 

"Well,   wdll!     Ma  petite,  why  do  you  say  this?" 

"Do  you  know  what  she  did  yesterday,  Monsieur  le 
Cure  ?  She  beat  me !  " 

"Beat! "  repeated  the  cure",  in  a  tone  of  incredulity, 
so  impossible  did  it  appear  to  him  that  any  one  would 
dare  to  touch,  even  with  the  end  of  a  finger,  a  little 
creature  as  delicate  as  I. 

"Yes,  beat!  and  if  you  do  not  believe  me,  I  will 
show  you  the  mark  of  the  blows. " 

With  the  word  I  began  to  unbutton  my  dress. 
The  cure  looked  straight  before  him  with  a  fright- 
ened air. 

"It  is  not  necessary!  It  is  not  necessary!  I  be- 
lieve your  word,"  he  cried  hastily,  his  face  crimson, 
and  his  eyes  modestly  directed  to  the  tips  of  his  shoes. 

"  To  beat  me  on  my  sixteenth  birthday !  "  I  went  on, 
re-buttoning  my  dress.  "Do  you  know,  I  detest  her." 

And  I  struck  the  table  with  my  fist  and  hurt  myself, 
severely. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 


"Come,  come,  my  good  little  child,"  said  the  cure, 
much  disturbed,  "calm  yourself,  and  tell  me  what 
you  did." 

"  Nothing  at  all !  When  you  left,  she  called  me 
shameless,  and  threw  herself  on  me  like  a  fury !  The 
wicked  woman! " 

"  Come,  Reine,  come,  you  know  that  we  must  for- 
give our  enemies." 

"  Ah,  indeed ! "  I  cried,  pushing  my  chair  back  sud- 
denly, and  striding  up  and  down  the  salon,  "  I  will 
never  forgive  her, —  never,  never!" 

The  cure  rose  too,  and  began  to  pace  in  such  fashion 
that  in  continuing  our  conversation  we  passed  each 
other  continually,  like  the  ogre  and  little  Hop  o'  my 
Thumb,  when  he  has  stolen  one  of  the  seven-league 
boots  and  the  monster  is  in  pursuit. 

"  You  must  be  reasonable,  Reine,  and  take  this 
humiliation  as  a  kind  of  penance  for  the  remission 
of  your  sins! " 

"  My  sins ! "  I  exclaimed,  stopping  and  shrugging 
my  shoulders  slightly;  "you  know  well,  Monsieur  le 
Cure,  that  they  are  so  small,  so  small,  that  they  are 
not  worth  mentioning." 

"  Indeed !  "  said  the  cure,  who  was  not  able  to  keep 
back  a  smile.  "  Then,  since  you  are  a  saint,  bear  your 
troubles  patiently  for  the  love  of  God." 

"Not  I,"  I  answered  in  a  very  decided  tone;  "I  am 
perfectly  willing  to  love  the  good  God  a  little,  — not 


32  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

too  much ;  do  not  frown,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  —  but  I 
understand  that  he  loves  me  enough  not  to  be  at  all 
pleased  at  seeing  me  unhappy." 

"  What  a  head !  "  exclaimed  the  cure.  "  What  an 
education  I  have  given  her!" 

"In  short,"  I  continued,  beginning  to  pace  again, 
"  I  wish  revenge,  and  I  will  have  it. " 

"Reine,  this  is  very  wrong.  Be  silent  and  hear 
me." 

"Revenge  is  the  delight  of  the  gods,"  I  answered, 
jumping  up  to  catch  a  big  fly  that  was  hovering  over 
my  head. 

"  Let  us  speak  seriously,  ma  petite." 

"But  I  am  speaking  seriously,"  I  answered,  stop- 
ping an  instant  before  a  glass  to  note,  with  some 
satisfaction,  that  animation  was  very  becoming  to 
me.  "You  will  see,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  I  will  take  a 
sword,  and  I  will  decapitate  my  aunt  as  Judith  did 
Holof  ernes." 

"  The  child  is  mad !  "  cried  the  cure,  with  a  distressed 
air.  "  Calm  yourself,  Mademoiselle,  and  do  not  talk 
foolishness." 

"Very  well,  Monsieur  le  Cure;  but  confess  that 
Judith  was  not  worth  two  sous." 

The  cure"  leaned  back  against  the  mantel-piece  and 
delicately  took  a  pinch  of  snuff. 

"Pardon  me,  ma  petite,  that  depends  on  the  point 
of  view  from  which  one  observes  her." 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  33 

"How  illogical  you  are!"  I  said.  "You  think 
Judith's  action  superb  because  she  delivered  some 
paltry  Jews,  who  were  certainly  not  worth  as  much  as 
I,  and  who  ought  not  to  interest  you  at  all,  since  they 
have  been  dead  and  buried  this  long  time;  and  you 
think  it  very  wrong  that  I  should  do  as  much  for  my 
own  deliverance.  And  Heaven  knows  that  I  am  very 
much  alive,"  I  added,  spinning  around  many  times 
on  my  heels. 

"You  have  a  good  opinion  of  yourself,"  answered 
the  cure,  forcing  himself  to  assume  a  severe  air. 

"Ah,   excellent!" 

"  Come,  will  you  listen  to  me  now? " 

"I  am  sure,"  I  said,  pursuing  my  idea,  "that  Holo- 
fernes  was  infinitely  more  agreeable  than  my  aunt,  and 
that  I  should  have  got  on  with  him  perfectly.  Conse- 
quently, I  cannot  see  any  great  objection  to  my  imitat- 
ing Judith." 

"Reine!  "  cried  the  cure,  stamping  his  foot. 

"  My  dear  cure",  do  not  be  angry,   I  beg.     You  can 
reassure  yourself;  I  shall  not  kill  my  aunt, — -  I  have 
another  way  to  take  my  revenge. " 

"Tell  it  to  me,"  said  the  excellent  man,  softened 
at  once,  as  he  fell  into  a  chair. 

I  seated  myself  beside  him. 

"  Very  well.     You  have  heard  of  my  Uncle  de  Pavol  ?  " 

"Certainly.     He  lives  near  V ." 

"  Excellent !     What  is  the  name  of  his  estate?  " 

3 


34  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"Pavol." 

"  Then  if  I  wrote  to  my  uncle  at  the  Chateau  Pavol 
near  V ,  the  letter  would  arrive  safely?  " 

"Without  doubt." 

"  Then,  Monsieur  le  Cur6,  I  have  found  my  revenge. 
You  know  that  though  my  aunt  does  not  love  me,  she 
loves  my  money." 

"But,  my  child,"  said  the  cure,  astounded,  "where 
did  you  learn  this?" 

"  I  heard  her  say  it  herself,  so  I  am  sure  of  what  I 
state.  She  fears  above  all  that  I  will  complain  to 
Monsieur  de  Pavol,  and  that  I  will  ask  him  to  take  me 
to  live  with  him.  I  count  on  threatening  to  write 
to  my  uncle;  and  I  do  not  say,"  I  continued  after  a 
moment's  hesitation,  "that  I  shall  not  do  it,  some 
day  or  other." 

"Come,  that  is  harmless  enough,"  said  the  good 
cure,  smiling. 

"You  will  see,"  I  cried,  clapping  my  hands;  "do 
you  approve? " 

"  Yes,  up  to  a  certain  point,  ma  petite,  for  it  is 
clear  that  you  should  not  be  struck ;  but  I  forbid  any 
impertinence.  Do  not  use  your  weapon  except  for 
legitimate  defence,  and  remember  that  if  your  aunt 
has  faults,  you  owe  her  respect  and  should  not  be  f 
in  the  least  aggressive." 

I  made  an  expressive  grimace. 

"I  promise  you    nothing;   or  rather,   wait, — to  be 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  35 

frank,  I  promise  to  do  exactly  the  opposite  of  what 
you  say." 

"  It  is  a  veritable  revolt !  I  shall  end  by  being 
angry,  Reine. " 

"It  is  more  than  a  revolt,"  I  replied  gravely;  "it  is 
a  revolution." 

"I  am  at  the  end  of  my  patience  and  my  wits," 
muttered  the  cure.  "  Mademoiselle  de  Lavalle,  be  so 
good  as  to  submit  to  my  authority." 

"Listen,"  I  went  on  in  a  coaxing  tone;  "I  love  you 
with  all  my  heart.  You  are  indeed  the  only  person  in 
the  world  that  I  do  love. " 

The  cure's  face  brightened. 

"But  I  detest,  I  execrate  my  aunt;  my  opinions  on 
this  subject  will  never  change.  I  am  much  more 
intelligent  than  she  —  " 

Here  the  cure,  whose  face  was  growing  dark,  broke 
in  with  a  hasty  exclamation. 

"Do  not  protest,"  I  went  on,  watching  him  slyly: 
"you  know  that  you  are  of  my  opinion." 

"What  an  education!  what  an  education!"  mur- 
mured the  cure,  in  a  piteous  tone. 

"Monsieur  le  Cure,  my  salvation  is  not  jeopardized. 
Do  not  disturb  yourself.  I  shall  meet  you  some  day 
or  other  in  heaven,  "  I  resumed.  "  Having,  then, 
much  more  intelligence  than  my  aunt,  it  will  be  easy  to 
irritate  her  by  my  remarks.  Last  night  I  swore  to 


36  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

myself  to  be  very  disagreeable.  I  called  the  moon 
and  stars  to  witness  my  oath." 

"My  child,"  said  the  cure",  "you  are  not  willing  to 
hear  me,  and  you  will  be  sorry." 

"  Bah !  We  shall  see  about  that !  I  hear  my  aunt ; 
she  is  furious  because  it  was  I  who  let  out  the  cow, 
the  fowls,  and  rabbits,  in  order  to  be  alone  with  you. 
Give  her  a  talking  to,  Monsieur  le  Cure.  I  assure  you 
that  she  struck  me  very  hard ;  I  have  black  marks  on 
my  shoulders." 

My  aunt  entered  like  a  hurricane,  and  the  stunned 
cure  had  no  time  to  answer  me. 

"  Reine,  come  here !  "  she  cried,  her  face  purple  with 
rage  and  the  hurried  chase  she  had  had  after  the  rabbits. 

I  made  her  a  deep  courtesy. 

"I  leave  you  with  the  cure,"  I  said,  darting  a  look 
of  intelligence  at  my  ally. 

The  window,  most  fortunately,  was  open. 

I  jumped  into  a  chair,  threw  my  legs  over  the  sill, 
and  let  myself  drop  into  the  garden,  to  the  great  aston- 
ishment of  my  aunt,  who  had  stationed  herself  before 
the  door  to  cut  off  my  retreat. 

I  confess  that  I  pretended  to  run  away,  but  that  in 
reality  I  hid  behind  a  laurel  and  had  such  delight  as 
never  before  in  hearing  the  reproaches  of  the  cure  and 
the  furious  exclamations  of  my  aunt.  That  evening, 
during  dinner,  she  had  the  pleasant  manners  of  a 
mastiff  from  whom  one  has  taken  a  bone. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  39 

She  scolded  Suzon,  who  bade  her  mind  her  business, 
maltreated  her  cat,  and  threw  the  silver  on  the  table 
with  a  horrible  noise;  finally,  exasperated  at  my 
impassible  and  satirical  air,  she  seized  a  carafe,  and 
threw  it  out  of  the  window. 

I  instantly  seized  a  dish  of  rice,  which  she  had  not 
yet  tasted,  and  sent  it  after  the  carafe. 

"Miserable  fool!"  shouted  my  aunt,  darting  toward 
me. 

"Do  not  come  near  me,"  I  said,  retreating;  "if  you 
touch  me,  I  will  write  to  my  Uncle  de  Pavol. " 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  my  aunt,  standing  petrified,  her 
arm  raised. 

"If  not  to-night,  "I  added,  "to-morrow,  or  in  a  day 
or  two,  for  I  do  not  propose  to  be  beaten." 

"  Your  uncle  will  not  believe  you,"  cried  my  aunt. 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed.  Your  fingers  have  left  their 
mark  on  my  shoulders.  I  know  that  he  is  very  kind, 
and  I  will  go  to  him." 

I  had  really  no  knowledge  of  my  uncle's  character, 
as  I  was  six  years  old  when  I  saw  him  for  the  first  and 
last  time.  But  I  thought  that  I  ought  to  appear  to 
have  known  about  him  for  a  long  time,  and  that  by  so 
doing  I  should  show  great  diplomacy.  I  went  out 
majestically,  leaving  my  aunt  to  overflow  into  the 
breast  of  Suzon. 


CHAPTER    IV. 


XT  7AR  was  declared;  and  from  that  moment  I 
*  *  passed  my  time  in  fighting  Madame  de  La- 
valle.  Until  then  I  had  hardly  dared  to  open  my 
mouth  before  her,  unless  the  cure  made  a  third;  for 
she  would  bid  me  be  silent  even  before  I  had  finished 
my  sentence. 

I  assure  you  that  this  method  of  procedure  was  par- 
ticularly disagreeable  to  me,  because  I  am  extremely 
fond  of  talking.  I  made  up  for  it  a  little  with  the 
cure,  but  this  was  entirely  insufficient.  I  had,  be- 
sides, acquired  the  habit  of  talking  aloud  to  myself. 
I  often  took  my  stand  before  my  mirror  and  talked  to 
my  reflection  for  whole  hours. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  41 

My  dear  mirror!  faithful  friend!  confidant  of  my 
most  secret  thoughts! 

I  do  not  know  whether  men  have  ever  considered 
seriously  the  enormous  influence  which  this  little  piece 
of  furniture  can  exercise  on  the  mind.  Note  that  I  do 
not  specify  the  sex  of  the  mind,  being  perfectly  con- 
vinced that  individuals  with  beards  have  as  much 
pleasure  in  observing  their  appearance  as  we. 

If  I  were  writing  a  philosophic  work,  I  should  select 
as  my  subject,  The  Influence  of  the  Mirror  on  the  In- 
tellect and  Heart  of  Mankind. 

I  do  not  deny  that  my  treatise  would  perhaps  be 
unique  of  its  kind,  that  it  would  in  no  way  resemble 
the  philosophy  in  which  Kant,  Fichte,  Schelling,  and 
others  have  dabbled  all  their  lives,  to  their  own  great 
glory,  and  the  still  greater  happiness  of  posterity, 
which  reads  them  with  an  interest  the  more  keen  that 
it  understands  nothing.  No;  my  treatise  will  not  fol- 
low at  all  in  the  footsteps  of  these  gentlemen.  It  will 
be  clear,  concise,  practical,  with  a  touch  of  the  caustic ; 
and  one  must  push  the  love  of  contradiction  very  far 
not  to  admit  that  these  characteristics  do  not  apper- 
tain to  the  philosophies  above  mentioned.  But  not 
finding  my  knowledge  sufficiently  ripe  for  this  great 
work,  I  content  myself  with  cherishing  for  my  mirror 
a  sincere  affection,  and  with  looking  at  myself  every 
day  for  a  long  time  in  a  spirit  of  thankfulness. 

I  am  perfectly  aware  that  in  face  of  this  revelation 


42  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

some  of  those  peevish,  fault-finding  spirits  who  see 
everything  at  its  darkest  will  insinuate  that  coquetry 
plays  a  great  part  in  the  feeling  which  I  profess  for 
my  mirror.  Mon  Dieu  /  one  is  not  perfection,  and 
note,  good  reader,  that  if  you  are  sincere,  which 
is  by  no  means  certain,  you  will  acknowledge  that 
personal  interest,  to  use  no  harsher  word,  holds  first 
place  in  the  greater  part  of  your  opinions. 

To  return  to  my  subject,  I  will  say  that,  having 
broken  entirely  with  my  old  fears,  I  no  longer  tried 
to  restrain  my  loquacity  before  my  aunt.  There  was 
not  a  meal  when  we  did  not  have  discussions  that 
threatened  to  degenerate  into  tempests. 

Although  I  did  not  yet  know  her  origin,  I  was  not 
slow  to  discover  that  she  was  as  ignorant  as  a  carp, 
and  that  she  experienced  a  lively  vexation  when  I 
supported  my  opinions  by  my  knowledge  or  that  of 
the  cure",  —  though  as  to  that,  I  never  hesitated  to 
give  the  authority  of  history  to  ideas  drawn  from  my 
own  brain.  Unfortunately  it  was  not  possible  for  me 
to  combat  the  personal  experience  of  my  aunt;  and 
when  she  asserted  that  things  were  thus  and  so  in  the 
world,  that  men  were  nothing  at  all  but  scamps  and 
tools  of  Satan,  I  was  angry  because  I  could  make  no 
reply.  I  had  enough  good  sense  to  perceive  that  the 
persons  with  whom  I  was  living  could  give  me  a  most 
imperfect  idea  of  human  kind  in  the  ordinary  cir- 
cumstances of  life. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  43 

The  cure  dined  with  us  every  Sunday.  He  had, 
doubtless,  his  private  reasons  for  not  crying  up  the 
lords  of  creation  before  me,  —  except  when  it  con- 
cerned his  heroes  of  antiquity,  on  behalf  of  whom  he 
had  no  longer  to  fear  an  enterprising  spirit, —  be- 
cause he  offered  the  weakest  denials  to  the  asser- 
tions of  my  aunt. 

The  Sunday  dinner  was  composed  invariably  of  a 
capon  or  a  fowl,  a  salad  of  hard-boiled  eggs,  and  curds, 
if  it  were  the  season.  The  cure,  whose  cheer  was  of 
the  slightest  at  home,  and  whose  palate  could  appreci- 
ate Suzon's  cooking,  used  to  arrive  rubbing  his  hands, 
and  declaring  himself  famished. 

We  placed  ourselves  at  the  table  immediately,  and 
the  beginning  of  the  conversation  was  as  invariable  as 
the  menu. 

"It  is  beautiful  weather,"  my  aunt  would  say.  Her 
remark,  if  it  rained,  was  varied  only  by  a  change  of 
the  adjective. 

"Superb  weather,"  the  cure  would  answer  joyously. 
"It  is  delightful  to  walk  in  the  bright  sunshine." 

If  it  had  rained,  if  it  had  snowed,  if  it  had  frozen, 
if  it  had  hailed  stones  and  brimstone,  the  cure"  would 
have  expressed  his  satisfaction  as  strongly  as  if  expa- 
tiating on  the  charms  of  a  snug  room  or  singing  the 
praises  of  a  blazing  fire. 

"But  it  is  not  cold,"  my  aunt  would  add.  "It  is 
astonishing.  In  my  time  we  put  on  white  dresses  at 
Easter." 


44  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"Were  white  dresses  becoming  to  you?"    I  would 
ask  eagerly. 

My  aunt,  who  foresaw  some  impertinence,  launched 
a  forbidding  look  at  me  before  replying, — 

"Certainly,  very  becoming." 

"  Oh !  "  I  would  exclaim,  in  a  tone  which  left  no 
doubt  as  to  my  private  opinion. 

"In  my  time,"  my  aunt  would  say,  "little  girls  did 
not  speak  unless  they  were  spoken  to." 

"  You  never  spoke  when  you  were  young,  Aunt  ?  " 

"When  some  one  spoke  to  me,  not  otherwise." 

"And  were  all  the  girls  like  you,  Aunt?  " 

"Certainly,  my  niece. " 

"  What  a  horrible  time ! "  I  would  sigh,  raising  my 
eyes  to  heaven. 

The  cure  would  look  at  me  reproachfully,  and 
Madame  de  Lavalle  would  eye  the  different  objects 
on  the  table,  evidently  greatly  tempted  to  throw  some- 
thing at  my  head. 

Conversation,  having  reached  this  acute  stage,  would 
cease  suddenly,  until  my  aunt's  sharp  humours,  held 
in  check  by  an  effort  of  will,  exploded  all  at  once  like 
a  boiler  subjected  to  too  strong  pressure.  She  would 
vent  her  wrath  upon  all  creation.  Men,  women,  and 
children, —  nothing  escaped  it.  Of  the  poor  men  there 
was  left  at  the  dinner's  end  only  a  horrible  mixture, 
not  of  bones  and  mangled  flesh,  but  of  monsters  of  all 
kinds. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  45 

"Men  are  not  worth  a  dog's  trotters,"  my  aunt 
would  say,  in  the  harmonious  and  choice  language 
which  was  habitual  to  her. 

The  cure,  who  realized  the  unfortunate  fact  that  he 
was  not  a  woman,  lowered  his  head  and  appeared  full 
of  contrition. 

"  What  miscreants !  what  scamps ! "  my  aunt  would 
go  on,  regarding  me  with  a  furious  look,  as  if  I  be- 
longed to  the  class  in  question. 

"  Humph !  "  the  cure  would  say. 

"  Creatures  who  think  of  nothing  but  to  enjoy  them- 
selves and  eat,"  she  would  add,  smarting  under  the 
poverty  bequeathed  her  by  her  husband.  "  What  tools 
of  Satan ! " 

"  Humph !  humph !  "  the  cure  would  say  again,  nod- 
ding his  head. 

"Monsieur  le  Cure,"  I  would  cry  impatiently, 
"'humph'  is  not  a  very  strong  argument." 

"Allow  me,  —  allow  me,"  the  worthy  man  would 
say,  disturbed  in  the  enjoyment  of  his  dinner.  "  I 
think  that  Madame  de  Lavalle  said  more  than  she 
really  meant  in  using  the  expression  '  tools  of  Satan. ' 
But  it  is  true  that  there  are  many  men  who  do  not  in- 
spire much  confidence." 

"You  are  like  Francis  I., — you  prefer  the  ladies,"  I 
would  say,  with  my  little  candid  air. 

"  Palsambleu!  "  my  aunt  would  cry.  She  had  re- 
placed certain  most  expressive  words  of  her  own  with 


46  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

this  one,  borrowed  from  her  husband,  which  seemed  to 
her  thoroughly  aristocratic, —  "  Palsambleu  !  hold  your 
tongue,  fool ! " 

But  the  cure"  would  make  a  mysterious  sign,  and  the 
excellent  woman  would  bite  her  lips. 

"And  your  heroes,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  your  Greeks 
and  Romans?" 

"Oh,  the  men  of  to-day  are  not  in  the  least  like 
those  of  antiquity,"  the  cure  would  say,  entirely  cer- 
tain that  he  expressed  a  great  truth. 

"And  the  cures?  "  I  would  ask. 

"The  cure's  are  not  under  consideration,"  he  would 
answer  with  a  pleasant  smile. 

This  kind  of  conversation,  filled  with  hidden  mean- 
ings, had  the  effect  of  stimulating  me  tremendously. 
I  became  aware  that  a  world  of  ideas  and  sentiments 
was  unknown  to  me,  and  that  I  ought  to  lose  no  time  in 
discovering  it.  I  had  my  doubts  as  to  the  absolute  jus- 
tice of  my  aunt's  condemnation  of  humanity;  but  I  un- 
derstood that  I  was  ignorant  of  many  things,  and  that 
I  was  likely  to  remain  a  long  time  in  my  ignorance. 

One  morning  when  I  was  meditating  on  this  lament- 
able state  of  affairs,  the  idea  occurred  to  me  to  consult 
the  three  persons  whom  I  was  able  to  see  every  day : 
Jean  the  farmer,  Perrine,  and  Suzon. 

The  last-named  having  lived  at  C ,  I  decided 

that  her  estimate  ought  to  be  based  on  a  wide  experi- 
ence, and  I  reserved  her  for  a  bonne  bouche. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  47 

Wrapping  myself  in  a  cloak,  I  took  my  sabots  and 
the  road  to  the  farm,  which  was  about  a  half-mile  from 
the  house. 

Paddling,  splashing,  plunging,  I  reached  Jean,  who 
was  cleaning  his  plough. 

"Good-morning,  Jean." 

"Good-morning,  Mamselle,"  said  Jean,  taking  off 
his  worsted  hat;  whereupon  all  his  hair  stood  up 
straight  on  his  head.  When  it  was  not  under  pres- 
sure, it  was  given  to  indulging  in  this  little  practice. 

"  I  come  to  consult  you  on  a  subject  very,  very  im- 
portant," I  said,  emphasizing  the  adverb  to  awaken  his 
wits,  which  I  knew  were  disposed  to  be  wool  gather- 
ing when  he  was  questioned. 

"  At  your  service,  Mamselle. " 

"My  aunt  says  that  all  men  are  scamps;  what  is 
your  opinion  on  the  subject,  Jean?" 

"Scamps!"  repeated  Jean,  opening  his  eyes  as  if  he 
perceived  a  monster  before  him. 

"Yes;  but  that  is  my  aunt's  opinion,  and  I  wish 
yours." 

" Dame !  it  ought  to  be  the  same." 

"  But  that  is  not  an  opinion,  Jean.  Come,  do  you 
believe,  yes  or  no,  that  men  are  generally  scamps?" 

Jean  laid  the  first  finger  of  his  right  hand  on  the 
end  of  his  nose,  which  is,  as  every  one  is  aware,  the 
evidence  of  profound  thought. 

After  having  reflected  a  good  minute,  he  made  me 
this  clear  and  decisive  answer,  — 


48  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"  Listen,  Mamselle ;  I  will  tell  you.  It  may  be  yes, 
but  then  it  may  be  no." 

"  Blockhead ! "  I  exclaimed,  indignant  at  contem- 
plating such  phenomenal  stupidity. 

He  opened  his  eyes;  he  opened  his  mouth;  he 
opened  his  hands;  he  would  have  opened  his  entire 
person  if  he  had  been  able,  to  show  his  astonishment 
better. 

I  returned  to  the  courtyard  of  Buisson,  storming 
at  the  mud,  my  sabots,  Jean,  and  myself. 

"Perrine,"  I  cried,  "come  here." 

Perrine,  who  was  cleaning  her  milk-pans,  ran  at  once, 
a  bunch  of  nettles  in  her  hand,  her  arms  bare,  her  face 
red  as  a  lady  apple,  and  her  bonnet  on  the  back  of  her 
head,  as  was  her  habit. 

"  What  is  your  opinion  about  men  ? "  I  asked 
abruptly. 

"  About  men !  " 

And  Perrine  changed  from  the  red  of  an  apple  to 
that  of  a  peony,  dropped  her  nettles,  seized  the  corner 
of  her  apron,  lifted  her  left  foot  and  remained  perched 
on  the  right,  while  she  looked  at  me  with  amazement. 

"Well,  then,  answer!    What  do  you  think  of  men? " 

"Mamselle  is  making  fun  of  me,  surely!  " 

"Not  at  all;  I  am  speaking  seriously.  Answer 
quickly." 

"Dame!  Mamselle,"  said  Perrine,  standing  erect 
again  on  her  two  legs,  "when  they  are  handsome  lads 
my  opinion  is  that  there  are  worse  things  to  look  at. " 


My   Uncle  and  My    Cure.  49 

This  way  of  considering  the  question  gave  me  great 
matter  for  reflection. 

"I  am  not  speaking  of  their  personal  appearance," 
I  said,  shrugging  my  shoulders,  "but  of  their 
character." 

" Ma  foi !  I  have  found  them  most  amiable,"  an- 
swered Perrine,  whose  little  eyes  sparkled. 

"What!  you  have  not  found  them  miscreants, 
scamps,  tools  of  Satan?  " 

Perrine  burst  into  a  broad  laugh. 

"  You  see,  Mamselle,  the  talk  of  these  miscreants  is 
so  pleasant  that  —  " 

Here  she  broke  off  and  gave  her  head  a  great  thump 
with  her  fist.  She  twisted  her  apron,  dropped  her 
eyes,  and  seemed  disposed  to  take  to  her  heels. 

"  What  next  ?  finish  your  sentence ! " 

"Mamselle  makes  me  talk  nonsense, — that  is  cer- 
tain. I  am  going. " 

And  making  me  her  best  courtesy,  she  disappeared 
in  the  depths  of  the  dairy,  shutting  the  door  in  my 
face. 

Why  did  she  say  nonsense?  Come,  Suzon  is  my  last 
resource ;  it  remains  to  be  seen  if  she  will  speak. 

I  went  into  the  kitchen.  Suzon,  armed  with  a  broom, 
was  preparing  for  active  work.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
she  had  one  of  her  blue  days,  and  I  judged  that  it 
would  be  judicious  to  use  some  oratorical  skill  in  pro- 
pounding my  question. 


50  My   Unck  and  My  Cure. 

"  How  beautiful  your  coppers  are,  and  how  they 
shine!"  I  said  graciously. 

"I  do  the  best  I  can,"  grumbled  Suzon.  "After 
all,  those  who  don't  like  it  have  only  to  say  so." 

"Your  fricassee  of  fowl  is  a  great  success,  Suzon," 
I  continued,  undiscouraged ;  "you  must  teach  me  how 
to  make  it." 

"It  is  not  proper  work  for  you,  Mademoiselle;  stay 
in  your  own  part  of  the  house  and  leave  me  in  peace 
in  my  kitchen." 

My  methods  of  conciliation  not  producing  any  effect, 
I  turned  my  batteries  in  another  direction. 

"Do  you  know  one  thing,  Suzon?  You  must  have 
been  very  pretty  when  you  were  young,"  I  said, 
thinking  to  myself  that  if  I  had  been  her  husband 
I  would  have  put  her  to  bake  in  the  oven  to  get  rid 
of  her. 

I  had  touched  a  responsive  chord,  for  Suzon  deigned 
to  smile. 

"Every  one  was  pretty  once,  Mademoiselle." 

" Suzon,"  I  resumed,  profiting  by  this  sudden  soften- 
ing to  get  more  quickly  to  my  subject,  "  I  want  to  ask 
one  question.  What  is  your  opinion  of  men  —  and 
women?"  I  added,  thinking  it  ingenious  to  extend  my 
studies  to  both  sexes. 

Suzon  leaned  on  her  broom,  assumed  her  most 
severe  expression,  and  answered  me  with  absolute 
conviction, — 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  51 

"  Women,  Mademoiselle,  are  not  much,  but  men  are 
nothing  at  all. " 

"  Oh !  "  I  protested ;  "  are  you  sure  ?  " 
"As  sure  as  that  I  speak  to  you,  Mademoiselle." 
She  gave  a  great  blow  with  her  broom  to  the  parings 
of  vegetables  that  were  on  the  floor,  and  made  them 
disappear  with   as   much  dexterity  as    if   they  repre- 
sented the  bipeds  so  obnoxious  to  her. 

I  retired  to  my  room  to  meditate  on  the  misan- 
thropic axiom  of  Suzon,  discouraged  enough  to  think 
that  I  was  not  much,  and  that  my  unknown  friends, 
the  men,  merited  the  humiliating  description  of  being 
nothing  at  all. 


CHAPTER   V. 


"V  TEVERTHELESS,  my  studies  of  morals  appear- 
•*-  ^  ing  to  me  totally  inadequate,  I  resolved  to 
continue  them  with  the  aid  of  the  romances  in  the 
library. 

Regularly  on  a  Monday,   the  day  of  the  fair,    my 

aunt,   the  cure,  and  Suzon  went  together   to    C . 

My  aunt  had  decided,  as  she  always  did,  that  I  should 
remain  under  the  charge  of  Perrine,  and  for  the  first 
time  in  my  life,  I  was  enchanted  at  this  decision.  I 
was  sure  to  be  left  to  my  own  devices,  Perrine  busy- 
ing herself  far  more  with  her  cow  than  with  my 
doings. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  53 

For  an  excursion  such  as  this  the  farmer,  at  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  brought  into  the  courtyard  a 
sort  of  tilted  cart,  called  in  those  parts  a  maringote. 
My  aunt  appeared  in  her  best  clothes,  her  head  adorned 
with  a  round  hat  of  black  felt,  to  which  she  had  fas- 
tened strings  of  tender  violet.  She  placed  it  jauntily 
on  the  top  of  her  chignon.  She  was  wrapped  in  furs, 
whether  it  was  warm  or  cold,  having  since  her  mar- 
riage adopted  the  belief  that  a  lady  of  quality  should 
never  travel  without  carrying  upon  her  the  skin  of 
some  animal.  When  she  was  thus  arrayed,  she  firmly 
believed  that  the  evidences  of  her  origin  were  effaced. 

She  seated  herself  at  the  back  of  the  maringote  on  a 
chair,  upon  which  was  placed  a  pillow,  in  order  that 
that  delicate  part  of  the  person  which  a  modest  pen 
refuses  to  name  might  not  be  injured. 

Suzon,  who  was  to  drive  a  horse  who  drove  himself, 
placed  herself  on  the  right  of  the  seat  before  her,  and 
the  cure  climbed  up  by  her  side. 

Then,  as  one  man,  they  turned  to  me. 

"Don't  do  anything  foolish,"  said  my  aunt,  "and 
don't  go  into  the  kitchen-garden." 

"Don't  make  a  mess  in  my  kitchen,"  said  Suzon, 
"and  be  satisfied  with  cold  veal  for  breakfast." 

The  cur6  did  not  say  a  word,  but  he  smiled  at  me 
pleasantly,  and  made  a  gesture  as  if  to  say, — 

"  I  would  have  liked  very  much  to  take  you,  but 
she  would  not." 


54  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

On  this  memorable  Monday  all  went  as  usual.  I 
took  a  few  steps  along  the  road  and  saw  them  disap- 
pear, shaking,  all  three,  like  salad-baskets. 

Without  losing  an  instant,  I  put  into  execution  a 
plan  which  had  been  ripening  for  a  long  time.  It  was 
no  other  than  to  take  possession  of  the  library,  whose 
key  the  cure  had  had  the  unlucky  idea  of  carrying  off, 
but  I  was  not  the  girl  to  be  discouraged  by  such  a 
trifle. 

I  ran  to  get  a  ladder,  which  I  dragged  under  the 
library  window;  after  superhuman  efforts  I  succeeded 
in  raising  it,  and  planting  it  solidly  against  the  wall. 
Clambering  quickly  up  the  rounds,  I  broke  a  pane  of 
glass  with  a  stone  with  which  I  had  armed  myself: 
then  taking  out  the  pieces  of  glass  sticking  to  the 
sash,  I  passed  the  upper  part  of  my  body  through  the 
opening,  and  dropped  into  the  library. 

I  fell  head-first  on  the  floor,  and  made  a  huge  bump 
on  my  forehead;  and  the  cure",  the  next  day,  brought 
me  an  ointment  for  it. 

My  first  care,  when  I  had  picked  myself  up,  and  the 
dizziness  caused  by  my  fall  had  passed  off,  was  to 
rummage  the  drawers  of  an  old  bureau  for  a  key  like 
the  one  the  cure  had  carried  off.  My  search  was  not 
long,  and  after  one  or  two  unsuccessful  attempts  I 
found  what  I  wanted. 

After  having  concealed  as  far  as  possible  the  evi- 
dences of  my  house-breaking,  I  settled  myself  in  a 


My  Uncle  and  My  Cure.  57 

chair,  and  while  I  rested  from  my  exertions,  my  eye 
was  caught  by  the  works  of  Walter  Scott  on  a  shelf 
in  front  of  me.  I  chose  one  at  random  from  the  set, 
and  went  to  my  room,  carrying,  as  if  it  were  a  treas- 
ure, "The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth." 

In  all  my  life  I  had  never  read  a  romance,  and  I  fell 
into  an  ecstasy,  a  rapture,  which  cannot  be  expressed. 
Should  I  live  nine  hundred  and  sixty-nine  years,  like 
the  good  Methuselah,  I  shall  never  forget  my  impres- 
sions on  reading  "The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth." 

I  felt  the  joy  of  a  prisoner  transported  from  his  cell 
into  the  midst  of  trees,  flowers,  and  sunshine,  or  bet- 
ter still,  of  an  artist  who  hears  played  for  the  first  time, 
and  to  perfection,  the  work  of  his  heart  and  brain. 
That  unknown  world,  for  which  I  was  unconsciously 
sighing,  was  opened  to  me  all  at  once.  A  light  shone 
suddenly  into  my  brain,  which  I  had  thought  until 
then  dull  and  idiotic.  I  was  intoxicated,  inebriated, 
by  this  romance,  so  full  of  colour,  life,  and  movement. 

That  evening  I  went,  as  in  a  dream,  down  to  the 
dining-room,  where  the  cure,  who  was  to  take  dinner 
with  us,  was  impatiently  awaiting  me. 

He  looked  at  my  face  with  deep  sympathy,  and 
asked,  with  the  greatest  interest,  how  the  accident 
had  happened. 

"  An  accident  ?"  I  said  with  astonishment. 

"Your  forehead  is  all  black  and  blue,  ma  petite 
Reine." 


58  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"The  blockhead  has  been  climbing  up  a  tree  or  a 
ladder,"  said  my  aunt. 

"A  ladder;  yes,  you  are  right,"  I  answered. 

"My  poor  child! "  cried  the  cure;  "you  fell  on  your 
head?" 

I  made  a  sign  of  assent. 

"  Have  you  used  arnica,  ma  petite  ?  " 

"Bah!  it  serves  her  right,"  said  my  aunt.  "Eat 
your  soup,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  and  do  not  trouble 
about  this  giddy  pate.  She  got  no  more  than  she 
deserves." 

The  cure"  said  no  more,  but  made  a  little  friendly 
sign,  and  watched  me  stealthily. 

But  I  did  not  pay  much  attention  to  what  went  on 
around  me.  I  was  thinking  of  that  charming  Cathe- 
rine Glover,  and  that  brave  Henry  Smith,  with  whom 
I  had  fallen  in  love  until  some  one  better  should  come 
along, — when,  behold,  without  the  slightest  warning 
I  broke  into  sobs. 

"Ah,  mon  Dieu!"  cried  the  cure,  springing  up. 
"My  dear  little  Reine!  my  good  little  child!" 

"Leave  her  alone,"  said  my  aunt;  "she  is  sulky 
because  she  did  not  go  with  us  to  C . " 

But  the  cure",  who  knew  that  I  detested  tears,  and 
that  I  was  too  proud  to  show  before  my  aunt  any  mor- 
tification of  which  she  was  the  cause,  came  to  me,  and 
asked  in  a  low  tone  why  I  cried,  and  tried  to  comfort 
me. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  59 

"There  is  nothing  the  matter,  my  dear,  good  cureV' 
I  said,  drying  my  tears  and  trying  to  smile.  "  You 
see  I  have  a  horror  of  pain,  my  head  aches,  and  then 
I  must  be  a  spectacle." 

"  No  more  than  usual,"  said  my  aunt. 

The  cure  looked  at  me  uneasily.  He  was  not  satis- 
fied with  my  explanation,  and  said  to  himself  that 
something  out  of  the  common  had  happened  during 
the  day.  He  advised  me  to  go  to  bed  without  delay, 
which  I  did  straightway. 

I  was  mortified  at  having  made  an  exhibition  of 
feeling,  and  all  the  more  mortified  that  I  did  not 
know  why  I  had  cried.  Was  it  from  pleasure  or  vex- 
ation? I  could  not  tell,  and  I  went  to  sleep  saying 
to  myself  that  it  was  useless  to  try  to  analyze  my 
feeling. 

During  the  following  month  I  devoured  the  greater 
part  of  Walter  Scott's  works.  Truly,  since  then  I 
have  had  deep  and  real  joys ;  but  however  great  they 
have  been,  I  do  not  know  that  they  have  been  more 
keen  than  those  I  experienced  when  my  mind  emerged 
from  its  mist,  like  a  butterfly  from  its  chrysalis.  I 
went  from  rapture  to  rapture,  from  ecstasy  to  ecstasy. 
I  thought  of  nothing  but  my  romances  and  the  charac- 
ters that  excited  my  imagination. 

When  the  cure  explained  to  me  a  problem,  I  thought 
of  Rebecca,  whom  I  had  left  t$te-a-t$tc  with  the  Tem- 
plar; when  he  gave  me  a  course  of  history,  I  saw 


60  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

march  before  me  those  delightful  heroes,  among  whom 
my  fickle  heart  had  already  chosen  more  than  a  dozen 
husbands;  when  he  reproached  me,  I  did  not  hear  more 
than  half,  being  engaged  in  designing  a  costume  like 
that  of  Queen  Elizabeth  or  Amy  Robsart. 

"What  have  you  done  to-day?"  he  would  ask  on 
arriving. 

"Nothing." 

"How  nothing?  " 

"All  this  wearies  me,"  I  would  say  with  a  tired 
air. 

The  poor  cure  was  in  dismay.  He  concocted  long 
exordiums,  and  delivered  them  at  me  without  stopping 
for  breath;  but  he  would  have  produced  as  much  effect 
had  he  addressed  a  redskin. 

Presently  I  became  all  at  once  very  depressed.  If  my 
aunt  no  longer  struck  me,  she  made  up  for  it  by  say- 
ing disagreeable  things.  She  had  discovered  that  I 
was  mortified  at  being  so  small.  She  never  lost  an 
opportunity  to  wound  me  in  this  vulnerable  spot ;  she 
called  me  a  shrimp,  and  kept  reiterating  that  I  was 
ugly. 

Not  long  before,  I  had  thought  myself  very  pretty, 
and  had  much  more  confidence  in  my  opinion  than  in 
my  aunt's.  But  in  making  acquaintance  with  Walter 
Scott's  heroines,  a  misgiving  arose  in  my  mind.  They 
were  so  beautiful  that  I  was  wretched  at  the  thought 
that  one  must  be  like  them  to  be  loved. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  61 

The  cure,  through  very  sympathy,  lost  his  smiles 
and  his  colour.  He  watched  me  with  a  tearful  look, 
spent  his  time  in  taking  snuff,  forgetting  all  the 
etiquette  of  the  art,  and  tried  to  discover  my  secret, 
employing  Machiavellian  means  to  gain  his  ends,  but 
I  was  impenetrable. 

One  day  I  saw  him  go  toward  the  library,  but  I  had 
been  careful  not  to  leave  the  key  in  the  lock;  he 
came  back  shaking  his  head,  and  running  his  hands 
through  his  hair,  which,  more  disordered  than  ever, 
looked  like  a  plume. 

I  was  hidden  behind  a  door,  and  when  he  passed 
near  me,  I  heard  him  mutter, — 

"I  will  come  back  with  the  key." 

This  decision  annoyed  me  greatly.  I  said  to  myself 
that  he  would  surely  discover  my  secret,  and  that  I 
should  not  be  able  to  continue  my  beloved  reading. 

I  went  at  once  to  get  some  volumes,  which  I  took 
to  my  room,  replacing  them  on  the  shelves  by  books 
taken  at  random,  but,  despite  my  precautions,  I  felt 
sure  that  the  square  of  paper  with  which  I  had  re- 
placed the  broken  pane  would  cry  aloud  against  me. 

It  was  on  that  day,  while  examining  some  letters 
which  I  found  in  the  bureau,  I  discovered  my  aunt's 
origin.  It  gave  me  a  weapon  against  her  which  I 
resolved  not  to  delay  in  using. 

The  next  morning  at  breakfast  she  was  in  a  bad 
humour.  When  she  was  in  that  state  of  mind,  if  she 


62  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

could  not  find  a  pretext  for  being  disagreeable  to  me, 
she  did  not  wait  for  it. 

I  was  dreaming  of  that  charming  Buckingham,  who 
seemed  to  me  adorable  with  his  insolence,  his  fine 
clothes,  his  bows,  and  his  wit,  and  I  was  asking  my- 
self why  Alice  Bridgenorth  was  in  despair  at  finding 
herself  at  his  house,  when  my  aunt  said  to  me  without 
preamble,— 

"  How  ugly  you  are  this  morning,  Reine!  " 

I  started  in  my  seat. 

"Here  it  is,"  I  said,  handing  her  the  salt. 

"  I  did  not  ask  for  the  salt,  idiot.  Truly,  you  have 
become  as  stupid  as  you  are  ugly ! " 

It  is  to  be  noted  that  my  aunt  never  addressed  me 
affectionately.  From  the  day  that  she  became  my 
uncle's  wife,  she  believed  it  due  to  the  dignity  of  her 
position  to  suppress  any  affectionate  expressions.  She 
spoke  to  me  as  she  did  to  her  rabbits. 

"I  do  not  share  your  opinion,"  I  answered  dryly;  "I 
think  myself  very  pretty." 

"  A  good  joke !  "  exclaimed  my  aunt.  "  Pretty !  you ! 
a  little  shrimp  not  higher  than  the  mantel-piece!" 

"  It  is  better  to  be  like  a  delicate  plant  than  to  just 
miss  being  a  man,"  I  answered. 

My  aunt  firmly  believed  that  she  had  been  a  beauty, 
and  would  not  tolerate  jesting  on  that  subject. 

"  I  was  beautiful,  Mademoiselle,  so  beautiful  that 
they  called  my  sister  and  me  goddesses ! " 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  63 

"  Did  your  sister  look  like  you,  Aunt?  " 

"Very  much;  we  were  twins." 

"Her  husband  ought  to  have  been  a  happy  man,"  I 
said  impressively. 

My  aunt  uttered  a  bad  word,  which  I  will  not  allow 
my  pen  to  repeat. 

"As  to  that,"  I  resumed  calmly,  "you  have  naturally 
the  tastes  of  a  woman  of  the  people,  while  I, —  I  - 

But  I  stopped  open-mouthed  in  the  midst  of  my  sen- 
tence ;  my  aunt  had  smashed  her  plate  with  the  handle 
of  her  knife.  What  I  had  said  showed  that  all  the 
efforts  she  had  hitherto  made  to  conceal  her  birth 
from  me  had  been  of  no  avail,  and  revenged  me  in 
full  for  all  her  unkindness. 

"  You  are  a  serpent ! "  she  cried  in  a  choked  voice. 

"I  think  not,  Aunt." 

"A  serpent!" 

"You  have  said  that  already,"  I  answered,  tranquilly 
swallowing  my  last  strawberry. 

"  A  serpent  warmed  in  my  bosom ! "  repeated  my 
aunt,  too  angry  to  draw  further  on  her  imagination. 

I  shook  my  head,  saying  to  myself  that  if  I  were  a 
serpent,  I  should  certainly  decline  to  assume  that  posi- 
tion of  my  own  free  will. 

"Permit  me,"  I  resumed;  "I  have  studied  this  ani- 
mal in  my  natural  history,  and  I  have  never  seen  that 
it  had  the  habit  of  being  warmed  in  the  bosom  of  any 
one  whatsoever." 


64  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

My  aunt,  always  disconcerted  when  I  referred  to  my 
reading,  made  no  answer,  but  the  expression  of  her 
face  seemed  to  me  so  little  reassuring  that  I  made 
haste  to  be  off,  singing  at  the  top  of  my  voice,  "II 
£tait  une  fois  un  oncle  de  Pavol,  de  Pavol,  de  Pavol. " 

We  were  at  the  middle  of  June.  Butterflies  were 
flying  everywhere;  flies  were  buzzing;  the  air  was  full 
of  a  thousand  odours, —  in  short,  the  weather  was  so 
charming  that  I  forgot  my  usual  prudence.  I  took 
my  book,  and  settled  myself  in  a  meadow  in  the 
shadow  of  a  haystack. 

My  heart  was  a  little  heavy  as  I  thought  of  what  my 
aunt  had  said.  It  is  certainly  most  distressing  to 
be  so  small,  so  very  small.  Who  would  ever  fall  in 
love  with  me?  But  I  comforted  myself  by  reading 
"Peveril  of  the  Peak."  Among  all  Scott's  novels  this 
was  my  first  choice,  precisely  because  of  Fenella, 
whose  figure  was  certainly  smaller  than  mine. 

I  loved,  I  adored,  Buckingham.  I  was  in  a  rage  at 
Fenella,  who  said  to  him  things  that  were  really  very 
severe,  and  at  the  moment  when  she  disappeared 
through  the  window,  I  stopped  reading  to  exclaim: 

"  Little  simpleton !  such  a  charming  man !  " 

As  I  uttered  the  words,  I  raised  my  eyes,  and  gave 
a  loud  cry,  for  there  was  the  cure,  standing  before  me. 
With  folded  arms  he  looked  at  me  in  astonishment. 
He  seemed  as  dismayed  as  the  individual  in  fairy 
stories  who  finds  his  diamonds  changed  to  nuts. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  67 

I  rose  a  little  shamefacedly,  because  I  had  been 
abominably  entrapped. 

"  Oh,   Reine !  "  he  began. 

"My  dear  cure,"  I  cried,  pressing  " Peveril  of  the 
Peak "  to  my  heart,  "  I  beg  you,  I  pray  you,  let  me 
keep  on ! " 

"  Reine !  my  little  Reine !  I  never  would  have  be- 
lieved it  of  you." 

This  gentleness  softened  me,  the  more  that  my  con- 
science was  not  entirely  clear;  so  I  set  myself  to  lead 
him  from  the  subject  by  tactics  peculiarly  feminine. 

"It  was  a  distraction,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  and  I  am 
so  unhappy." 

"  Unhappy,  Reine  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  it  can.  be  amusing  to  have  an  aunt 
like  mine?  She  does  not  beat  me  any  more,  it  is  true; 
but  she  says  things  which  give  me  so  much  pain." 

How  well  I  understood  my  cure!  He  had  already 
forgotten  his  displeasure  and  his  reproaches,  the 
more  that  there  was  a  solid  foundation  of  truth  to 
my  words. 

"  Is  that  the  reason  you  are  so  depressed,  my  good 
little  child?" 

"Certainly,  Monsieur  le  Cure.  Consider  that  my 
aunt  tells  me  in  every  possible  way  that  I  am  a 
shrimp,  and  that  I  am  ugly  enough  to  frighten  one." 

My  eyes  filled  with  tears,  for  the  subject  was  one 
that  went  right  to  my  heart. 


68  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

The  good  cure,  very  much  disturbed,  rubbed  his 
nose  with  a  perplexed  air.  He  was  far  from  sharing 
my  aunt's  ideas  on  this  point,  and  was  considering 
how  he  might  remove  my  mortification  without  awak- 
ening in  my  soul  pride,  vanity,  and  the  other  con- 
comitants of  damnation. 

"  Come,  Reine,  we  must  not  attach  too  much  impor- 
tance to  things  which  perish  so  quickly." 

"Meanwhile,  they  exist  at  the  present  moment,"  I 
replied;  thus  being  in  accord,  after  an  interval  of 
two  centuries,  with  the  thought  of  the  most  beautiful 
daughter  of  France. 

"And  then,  you  see,  perhaps  there  are  people  who 
do  not  think  as  Madame  de  Lavalle. " 

"Are  you  one  of  them,  Monsieur  le  Cure?  Do  you 
think  me  pretty?  " 

"Ye-es,"  answered  the  cur6,  in  a  tone  of  commis- 
eration. 

"Very  pretty?" 

"But  —  but  —  yes,"  answered  the  cur6,  in  the  same 
tone. 

"Ah,  how  happy  I  am !  "  I  cried,  pirouetting.  "How 
I  love  you,  my  dear  cure !  " 

'  This  is  all  very  well,  Reine,  but  you  have  com- 
mitted a  serious  fault.  You  have  forced  your  way 
into  the  library  at  the  risk  of  breaking  your  neck, 
and  you  have  read  books  which  I  should  probably 
never  have  given  you." 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  69 

"Walter  Scott,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  only  Walter 
Scott.  My  literature  speaks  very  highly  of  him." 

And  I  described  to  him  all  my  impressions.  I 
talked  volubly  for  a  long  time,  charmed  to  see  that 
the  cure  not  only  had  no  intention  of  scolding  me, 
but  that  he  listened  with  interest  to  what  I  was  say- 
ing. At  the  sight  of  my  enthusiasm  and  my  cheer- 
fulness, regained  as  if  by  magic,  he  recovered  his 
colour  and  his  smiling  looks. 

"  Come,"  he  said  to  me,  "  I  will  allow  you  to  con- 
tinue to  read  Walter  Scott,  I  will  even  re-read  him 
myself  so  that  I  may  discuss  him  with  you,  but  prom- 
ise me  that  you  will  not  renew  your  escapade." 

I  gave  him  the  promise  joyfully,  and  from  that  time 
we  had  a  new  subject  of  discussion  and  dispute,  for, 
be  it  understood,  we  were  never  of  the  same  mind. 

But  soon  the  interest  which  I  felt  for  my  romances 
was  effaced  by  a  surprising,  an  unheard-of  event, 
which  took  place  some  weeks  later  at  Buisson.  It 
was  one  of  those  events  which  do  not  make  empires 
tremble  to  their  base,  but  which  fill  the  heart  or  the 
imagination  of  young  girls  with  disturbing  thoughts. 


CHAPTER   VI. 


TT  was  a  Sunday. 

*-  On  Sunday  we  regularly  attended  High  Mass, 
which  was  the  only  morning  service,  the  cure  having 
no  vicaire.  My  aunt  entered  our  armorial  pew  first; 
I  followed  her;  Suzon  came  next;  and  Perrine  closed 
the  file. 

Our  little  church  was  old  and  wretched.  The  origi- 
nal colour  of  the  walls  had  disappeared  under  a  sort 
of  green  slime,  caused  by  the  dampness;  and  the  floor, 
instead  of  being  level,  had  many  fissures  and  hillocks 
which  invited  the  faithful  to  break  their  necks,  and 
take  advantage  of  being  in  a  sacred  place  to  rise  the 
sooner  to  the  skies.  The  altar  was  decorated  with  fig- 
ures of  angels,  painted  by  the  village  wheelwright, 
who  prided  himself  on  being  an  artist ;  two  or  three 
saints  surveyed  themselves  with  surprise,  astonished 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  71 

at  their  own  ugliness.  Often,  in  looking  at  them,  I 
have  said  to  myself  that  if  I  were  a  saint,  and  mortals 
represented  me  in  so  hideous  a  fashion,  I  should  be 
absolutely  deaf  to  their  prayers ;  but  perhaps  the  saints 
have  not  my  temperament.  Through  a  broken  win- 
dow a  white  rose  lifted  its  perfumed  head,  and  by  its 
beauty  and  freshness  seemed  to  protest  against  the 
bad  taste  of  men. 

We  were  the  owners  of  a  harmonium  of  which  only 
three  notes  sounded ;  sometimes  the  number  rose  to 
five,  the  instrument,  owing  to  the  weather,  being  sub- 
ject to  caprices,  like  the  rheumatism  of  our  precentor, 
who  roared  for  two  hours  in  so  naive  and  so  profound 
a  belief  that  he  had  a  fine  voice  that  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  be  out  of  patience  with  him. 

The  tabouret  of  the  officiant  was  placed  at  the  foot 
of  a  chasm,  in  such  a  way  that  from  my  position  I 
could  see  only  the  head  and  shoulders  of  the  cure, 
who  had  the  appearance  of  undergoing  punishment. 
The  choir-boys  made  faces  and  whispered  behind  his 
back,  without  its  occurring  to  him  to  be  annoyed. 

After  the  Gospels  he  took  off  his  chasuble  and  stole 
before  us, —  it  was  all  in  the  family, —  tripped  over 
some  holes,  and  reached  the  pulpit. 

Among  the  men  and  women  who  live  and  struggle 
the  wide  world  over,  I  suppose  there  is  not  one  who, 
at  some  time  in  his  life,  has  not  had  an  aspiration. 
Man,  be  his  position  low  or  high,  cannot  live  without 


72  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

longings ;  and  the  cur£,  obeying  the  common  law,  had 
for  thirty  years  of  his  life  dreamed  of  having  a  pulpit. 

Unhappily,  he  was  very  poor;  his  parishioners  were 
equally  so;  and  my  aunt,  who  was  the  only  person  who 
could  help  him,  made  no  response  to  his  timid  hints. 
Besides  being  niggardly  in  the  matter  of  giving,  she 
had  the  very  slightest  consideration  for  the  cure's 
aspiration. 

At  last,  by  dint  of  economy,  the  cure  found  himself 
one  day  the  master  of  two  hundred  francs.  He  re- 
solved then  to  realize  his  dream,  for  good  or  evil. 

One  morning  I  saw  him  arrive,  out  of  breath. 

"  Ma  petite  Reine,  come  with  me!  "  he  cried. 

"  Where,  Monsieur  le  Cure?  " 

"  To  the  church,  come  quick!" 

"  But  Mass  is  over!" 

"  Yes,  yes;  but  I  have  something  charming  to  show 
you ! " 

He  had  such  a  joyous  air,  his  kindly  figure  breathed 
such  lightheartedness,  that  I  laugh  now  when  I  think 
of  it,  and  his  delight  is  one  of  my  most  cherished 
memories  of  those  days. 

He  did  not  walk,  he  flew;  and  we  reached  the 
church  on  a  run.  Men  had  come  to  set  up  the  pulpit.; 
and  the  cur6,  in  an  ecstasy  before  it,  said  to  me  in  a 
low  tone, — 

"  Look,  petite  Reine,  look!  Is  it  not  a  happy  con- 
trivance? At  last  we  have  a  pulpit!  It  has  not  a  very 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  73 

solid  look,  but  it  is  firm  enough.  And  now  the  dream 
of  my  life  is  realized!  One  must  never  despair  of  any- 
thing, ma  petite,  never ! " 

I  looked  at  it  a  little  dismayed,  because  I  could  not 
conceal  from  myself  that  my  fancy  had  always  pictured 
a  pulpit  as  something  grand,  monumental.  The  one 
before  my  eyes  was  a  sort  of  box  of  white  wood  placed 
on  iron  supports,  and  raised  so  little  that  in  case  of 
necessity  one  could  have  entered  it  without  steps.  But 
a  pulpit  without  steps, —  such  a  thing  was  never  seen; 
so  to  save  its  reputation,  they  had  managed  to  place 
two,  each  six  inches  high. 

"See,  Reine,"  said  the  cure,  "what  a  good  effect  it 
produces.  When  I  have  a  little  money,  I  will  have  it 
given  a  coat  of  paint,  or  rather  I  will  paint  it  myself; 
that  will  amuse  me,  and  besides  it  will  be  cheaper.  It 
really  ought  to  be  a  little  higher,  but  one  must  not  be 
too  ambitious." 

And  the  poor,  excellent  man  walked  around  the 
pulpit  with  an  admiring  air.  Had  the  panels  been 
painted  by  Raphael  or  carved  by  Michael  Angelo,  he 
could  not  have  been  more  happy. 

He  did  not  consider  that  the  reality,  as,  alas !  always, 
did  not  in  the  least  resemble  his  dream ;  he  made 
no  comparisons,  and  enjoyed  his  happiness  without 
reservation. 

"It  was  I  who  designed  it,  my  dear  child;  and  it 
was  really  a  very  clever  idea.  Nevertheless,  there  is 


74  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 


another  side  to  the  picture,  and  I  must  acknowledge 
that  I  am  a  little  in  debt;  the  price  asked  me  is  a 
little  higher  than  I  had  expected;  but  it  seems  that 
that  is  always  the  case  when  one  builds.  I  counted 
on  buying  a  great-coat  this  winter  ;  eh,  well  !  I  must 
go  without  it,  that  's  all  !  " 

Oh,  yes,  his  joy  is  one  of  my  sweetest  memories 
of  those  days.  I  have  never  seen  a  man  so  happy,  and 
one  who  so  brightened  a  common  pleasure  by  the  re- 
flection of  his  own  kindly  disposition,  and  his  almost 
childish  interest. 

"It  certainly  has  all  the  appearance  of  a  pulpit,"  he 
said,  laughing  and  rubbing  his  hands.. 

I  had  truly  some  doubts  on  this  point,  but  I  con- 
cealed them,  and  was  as  enthusiastic  as  I  could  be 
over  this  extraordinary  object,  which,  on  account  of 
the  irregular  form  of  the  church,  was  placed  in  a 
recess,  so  that  when  the  cure  preached,  three  fourths 
of  the  congregation  saw  only  an  arm  and  a  bit  of 
white  hair  which  moved  eloquently  in  the  different 
stages  of  the  discourse. 

The  cure*  was  so  pleased  to  say  to  himself,  "  I  will 
enter  the  pulpit,"  that  we  had  to  resign  ourselves  to 
having  a  sermon  every  Sunday. 

Hardly  had  he  opened  his  mouth  than  the  women 
made  themselves  comfortable  for  a  little  nap;  than 
Perrine  profited  by  the  general  drowsiness  to  ogle  the 
pew  next  ours  ;  and  than  Reine  de  Lavalle  set  herself 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  75 

to  meditate  on  the  vicissitudes  of  a  life  represented 
by  an  aunt  and  the  vexation  of  sermons. 

I  know  not  why  the  cure  loved  to  discourse  on 
human  passions,  but  one  day  when  he  allowed  him- 
self to  be  carried  away  in  the  heat  of  improvisation,  I 
asked  him  at  dinner  questions  so  indiscreet  and  em- 
barrassing that  he  made  a  firm  resolve  never  again  to 
touch  on  certain  subjects  before  me.  He  contented 
himself  thereafter  with  speaking  of  idleness,  drunken- 
ness, anger,  and  other  vices  which  excited  neither  my 
curiosity  nor  my  loquacity. 

For  an  hour  he  would  lay  bare  to  our  eyes  the  great 
iniquity  in  which  we  were  sunk;  then,  when  our 
moral  state  had  become  truly  and  entirely  lament- 
able, with  a  radiant  air  he  would  descend  with  us 
into  hell  within  an  inch  of  the  punishments  which 
our  sin-ravaged  souls  deserved;  after  which,  passing 
by  a  bold  flight  of  rhetoric  to  ideas  less  horrible,  he 
would  emerge  little  by  little  from  the  infernal  re- 
gions, remain  a  few  moments  on  the  earth,  and  finally 
leave  us  happy  in  heaven,  and  would  descend  from 
his  pulpit  with  the  triumphant  step  of  a  conqueror 
who  has  cut  some  Gordian  knot. 

The  congregation  would  wake  up  with  a  start, 
except  Suzon,  who  was  too  happy  to  hear  evil  of 
humanity  to  sleep,  and  who  drank  it  all  in  while 
the  cure  whipped  his  flock  with  his  flowers  of 
rhetoric. 


76  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

It  was,  then,  a  Sunday.  The  heat  was  overpower- 
ing; and  as  we  returned  home,  Suzon  said  to  us,— 

"There  will  be  a  storm  before  the  day  is  over." 

Her  prediction  pleased  me;  a  storm  was  a  happy 
break  in  my  monotonous  life;  and  notwithstanding 
my  cowardice,  I  loved  the  thunder  and  lightning, 
although  they  made  me  tremble  in  every  limb  when 
the  peals  came  too  close  together. 

During  the  early  part  of  the  afternoon  I  wandered, 
like  a  soul  in  pain,  in  the  garden  and  the  little  wood. 
I  was  bored  to  death,  and  said  to  myself  dismally  that 
no  adventure  would  ever  happen  to  me,  and  that  I  was 
fated  to  live  always  with  my  aunt. 

Toward  four  o'clock,  returning  to  the  house,  I  went 
up  to  the  second-story  hall ;  and,  with  my  face  glued 
to  the  pane  of  a  large  window,  I  amused  myself 
by  watching  the  clouds  which  piled  themselves  up 
over  Buisson,  and  brought  us  the  storm  predicted 
by  Suzon. 

I  asked  myself  whence  they  came,  what  they  had 
seen  on  their  way,  what  they  could  tell  me, —  me  who 
knew  nothing  of  life  and  of  the  world,  and  who  longed 
to  see  and  to  know.  They  were  formed  behind  that 
horizon  which  I  had  never  passed,  and  which  hid  from 
me  mysteries,  splendours, —  at  least,  I  hoped  so,  - 
joys,  and  pleasures  on  which  I  meditated  inwardly. 

I  was  diverted  from  my  reflections  by  noticing  that 
Perrine,  hidden  away  in  a  snug  corner,  was  being  em- 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  77 

braced  by  a  big  rustic,  who  had  put  his  arm  around 
her  waist. 

I  opened  the  window  quickly,  and  cried,  clapping 
my  hands, — 

"Very  good,  Perrine;  I  see  you,  Mademoiselle!" 

Perrine,  in  a  fright,  seized  her  sabots  and  fled  for 
refuge  to  the  stable.  The  big  rustic  pulled  off  his 
hat,  and  looked  at  me  with  a  silly  smile  that  stretched 
his  mouth  from  ear  to  ear. 

I  was  laughing  with  all  my  might,  when  a  light  car- 
riage, which  I  had  not  heard  approach,  entered  the 
courtyard.  A  man  leaped  to  the  ground,  said  some 
words  to  the  servant  who  was  with  him,  and  looked 
about  to  find  some  one  to  speak  to. 

But  Perrine,  whose  white  cap  I  saw  peeping  over 
the  barred  window  of  the  stable,  did  not  budge,  and 
her  lover  had  thrown  himself  flat  on  his  stomach  be- 
hind a  heap  of  straw.  As  to  myself,  stupefied  before 
this  apparition,  I  had  drawn  one  of  the  blinds  of 
the  window,  and  was  watching  without  making  a 
movement. 

The  unknown  cleared  in  two  strides  the  dilap- 
idated flight  of  steps,  and  looked  for  a  bell  that  never 
existed;  seeing  which,  and  patience  not  being  his 
dominant  quality,  he  rapped  loudly  with  his  fist  upon 
the  door. 

My  aunt  and  Suzon  rushed  together  to  open  it,  and 
I  certify  that  from  that  moment  I  had  the  most 


78  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

favourable  opinion  of  his  courage,  for  he  did  not  show 
the  slightest  fear.  He  bowed  lightly,  and  I  made  out 
from  his  gestures  that  the  threatening  skies  having 
alarmed  him,  he  was  asking  shelter  at  Buisson. 

In  fact,  the  storm  broke  with  great  violence  at  that 
very  moment;  there  was  just  time  to  put  the  horse 
and  carriage  under  shelter. 

Solitude  is  said  to  create  timidity,  but  in  certain 
cases  it  produces  just  the  contrary  effect.  Having 
come  in  contact  with  no  one,  and  having  no  one  to 
compare  myself  with,  I  had  the  greatest  self-confi- 
dence, and  I  was  absolutely  ignorant  of  that  strange 
feeling  which  annihilates  the  most  brilliant  faculties, 
and  makes  the  most  clever  men  stupid. 

Nevertheless,  in  the  face  of  this  adventure,  which 
seemed  as  if  evoked  by  my  thoughts,  my  heart  beat 
wildly,  and  I  hesitated  so  long  to  enter  the  salon  that 
I  was  still  at  the  door  when  the  cure  arrived,  all  drip- 
ping, but  in  great  good-humour. 

"Monsieur  le  Cure,"  I  cried,  rushing  toward  him, 
"there  is  a  man  in  the  salon!" 

"Very  well,  Reine;  a  farmer,  no  doubt?  " 

"  Not  at  all,  Monsieur  le  Cure" ;  it  is  a  real  man!  " 

"  How  a  real  man  ?  " 

"  I  mean  to  say  that  it  is  neither  a  cure  nor  a  peas- 
ant, but  a  young  man,  well  dressed.  Let  us  go  in, 
quick." 

We  entered,  and  I  almost  uttered  a  cry  of  surprise 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  79 

when  I  noticed  that  my  aunt  wore  a  really  gracious 
expression,  and  that  she  was  smiling  agreeably  at  the 
unknown,  who,  seated  opposite  her,  seemed  as  much 
at  his  ease  as  if  he  were  at  home. 

For  that  matter,  his  appearance  alone  would  have 
been  enough  to  brighten  the  gloomiest  disposition. 
He  was  tall,  of  good  weight,  with  a  face  cheerful, 
fresh,  and  open.  His  blond  hair  was  cut  short,  he 
had  a  mustache  pointed  at  the  ends,  a  well-shaped 
mouth,  and  white  teeth,  which  a  frank  and  natural 
laugh  let  one  often  see.  All  his  person  breathed 
lightheartedness  and  the  joy  of  living. 

He  rose  on  seeing  us  enter,  and  waited  a  moment 
for  my  aunt  to  present  him.  But  that  ceremony 
was  as  little  known  to  her  as  to  the  inhabitants 
of  Greenland,  and  he  presented  himself  as  Paul 
de  Conprat. 

"  De  Conprat !  "  cried  the  cur6 ;  "  are  you  the  son  of 
that  excellent  Commandant  de  Conprat  whom  I  used 
to  know? " 

"  My  father  is  commandant,  it  is  true,  Monsieur  le 
Cure.  You  have  known  him  ?  " 

"  He  did  me  a  kindness  many  years  ago !  An  admi- 
rable, an  excellent  man ! " 

"I  know  that  every  one  loves  my  father,"  answered 
Monsieur  de  Conprat,  his  face  brighter  than  ever. 
"  It  is  always  a  fresh  pleasure  to  me  to  have  evi- 
dence of  it." 


8o  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"But,"  resumed  the  cure,  "are  you  not  a  relative 
of  Monsieur  de  Pavol?" 

''Certainly,  a  third  cousin." 

"Here  is  his  niece,"  said  the  cure,  presenting  me. 

Notwithstanding  my  inexperience,  I  saw  very 
clearly  that  Monsieur  de  Conprat's  look  expressed  a 
certain  admiration. 

"  I  am  enchanted  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  so 
charming  a  cousin,"  he  said  to  me  in  a  tone  of  con- 
viction, holding  out  his  hand. 

The  compliment  gave  me  a  pleasant  little  thrill, 
and  I  placed  my  hand  in  his  without  the  least 
embarrassment. 

"Not  precisely  cousins,"  said  the  cure,  with  a  jubi- 
lant air;  "Monsieur  de  Pavol  is  only  Reine's  uncle  by 
marriage;  his  wife  was  a  Mademoiselle  de  Lavalle. " 

"  It  makes  no  difference,"  cried  Monsieur  de  Conprat ; 
"  I  am  not  going  to  renounce  our  relationship.  Be- 
sides, if  you  look  carefully,  you  will  find  marriages 
between  my  family  and  that  of  de  Lavalle." 

We  fell  to  talking  like  three  good  comrades,  and  it 
seemed  to  me  as  if  we  had  always  seen  and  known  one 
another,  and  been  friends.  I  had  that  curious  feeling 
as  if  what  was  taking  place  before  one's  eyes  had 
already  happened  at  some  distant  time, —  a  time  so 
distant  that  one  preserved  only  a  vague  and  half-effaced 
memory  of  it. 

But  when  I  ran  over  in  my  mind  all  the  heroes  of 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  81 

romance  that  I  knew,  I  could  not  find  a  single  one  as 
plump  as  my  own.  He  was  stout, —  there  was  not  the 
shadow  of  doubt  about  that, —  but  so  good,  so  light- 
hearted,  so  witty,  that  this  physical  defect  became 
instantly  in  my  eyes  a  transcendent  virtue.  Soon 
even  my  imaginary  heroes  seemed  totally  shorn  of 
charm.  Notwithstanding  their  figures,  which  were 
elegant  and  always  slight,  they  were  blotted  out, 
totally  blotted  out,  by  this  good,  plump  fellow,  jolly 
and  jocund,  whom  I  mentally  endowed  with  a  host  of 
accomplishments. 

Meanwhile,  although  the  storm  had  diminished  in 
violence,  the  rain  had  not  ceased;  and  the  hour  for 
dinner  approaching,  my  aunt  invited  Paul  de  Conprat 
to  share  it  with  us.  He  declared  at  once  that  he  was 
as  hungry  as  a  cannibal,  and  accepted  with  an  alacrity 
which  charmed  me. 

I  slipped  out  for  an  instant  to  face  Suzon's  bad 
temper. 

"Suzon,"  I  said,  entering  the  kitchen  excitedly, 
"  Monsieur  de  Conprat  is  going  to  dine  with  us.  Have 
we  a  large  fowl,  milk,  strawberries,  and  cherries?" 

"//"//  Seigneur!  here 's  a  fuss!  "  grumbled  Suzon. 
"  There  is  what  there  is !  there  now !  " 

"  Really  and  truly,  Suzon !  but  answer  me  now.  A 
capon  perhaps  will  not  be  enough." 

"It  is  not  a  capon,  Mademoiselle,  it  is  a  turkey; 
just  take  a  look." 

6 


82  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

And  Suzon  quickly,  with  an  air  of  pride,  opened  the 
oven  and  let  me  admire  the  bird,  which,  well  fattened 
by  her  cares  and  those  of  Perrine,  must  have  weighed 
at  least  twelve  pounds.  The  browning,  skin  puffed 
up  here  and  there,  showing  the  delicacy  and  tender- 
ness of  the  meat  which  it  covered,  and  offering  to  my 
delighted  eyes  a  most  joyful  sight. 

"  Bravo !  "  I  said.  "  But  the  curds,  Suzon,  are  they 
a  success?  Is  there  a  good  deal  of  them?  And  the 
salad,  look  carefully  to  the  dressing!" 

"  I  am  accustomed  to  succeed  in  what  I  undertake, 
Mademoiselle.  Besides,  this  gentleman  is  neither 
a  prince  nor  an  emperor,  I  suppose.  He  is  a  man  like 
any  other,  and  will  put  up  with  what  is  given  him." 

"A  man  like  any  other,  Suzon!"  I  said  with  indig- 
nation. "  You  have  not  seen  him,  then  ? " 

"  Ma  foi!  yes,  Mademoiselle,  I  have  seen  and  have 
heard  him,  I  can  truly  say  that.  Is  it  allowable  for 
a  Christian  man  to  beat  with  all  his  might  on  the  door 
of  an  honest  house  as  he  did  ?  After  that,  fall  in  love 
with  him  if  you  wish !  " 

I  opened  my  mouth  to  answer  sharply,  but  stopped 
short,  prudently  reflecting  that,  to  show  her  resent- 
ment and  provoke  me,  Suzon  was  quite  capable  of 
letting  the  turkey  burn. 

A  few  moments  later  we  passed  into  the  dining- 
room,  and  I  could  not  refrain  from  casting  a  melan- 
choly glance  at  the  hangings,  which,  dirty  and  worn, 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure,  83 

fell  in  rags.  To  make  matters  worse,  Suzon  had  a 
most  singular  fashion  of  laying  the  cloth.  Three 
salt-cellars  ranged  themselves  in  the  middle  of  the 
table  after  the  fashion  of  an  epergne.  The  silver 
was  thrown  helter-skelter;  the  bottles  crowded  one 
another;  while  the  one  and  only  carafe  was  placed  so 
that  each  guest  had  to  nearly  dislocate  himself  to 
grasp  it,  the  table  being  three  times  too  large.  For 
the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  had  an  intuition  that  all  the 
laws  of  symmetry  were  violated  by  Suzon 's  fantastic 
taste.  But  Monsieur  de  Conprat  had  one  of  those 
happy  dispositions  that  look  at  everything  on  the 
bright  side.  And  then  he  had  the  faculty  of  identify- 
ing himself  with  any  place  in  which  he  found  himself. 

He  looked  at  the  table  cheerfully,  and  swallowed  his 
soup,  talking  without  stopping,  complimented  Suzon, 
and  uttered  genuine  expressions  of  delight  at  the  sight 
of  the  turkey. 

"It  must  be  confessed,  Monsieur  le  Cure,"  said  he, 
"that  life  is  a  happy  invention,  and  that  Heraclitus 
was  endowed  with  a  strong  dose  of  stupidity." 

"Do  not  speak  ill  of  philosophers,"  answered  the 
cure;  "they  have  their  good  points." 

"You  are  too  kind,  Monsieur  le  Cure.  For  my 
part,  if  I  were  the  government  I  would  turn  out  the 
lunatics  and  put  the  philosophers  in  their  place,  taking 
care  not  to  separate  them,  so  that  they  might  be  able 
the  better  to  destroy  one  another." 


84  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"What  is  it,  this  Heraclitus?  "  said  my  aunt. 

"An  idiot,  Madame,  who  spent  his  time  in  whin- 
ing. It  was  ridiculous,  man  Dieu!  and  to  have  suc- 
ceeded in  imposing  himself  on  posterity!" 

"Perhaps,"  insinuated  I,  "he  had  lived  with  many 
aunts,  and  that  had  soured  his  disposition." 

Monsieur  de  Conprat  looked  at  me  in  astonishment, 
and  broke  into  a  loud  laugh.  The  cure  stared ;  but  my 
aunt,  busy  with  the  turkey  which  she  was  carving  skil- 
fully, I  must  admit,  had  not  heard. 

"History  is  silent  on  this  point,  my  cousin." 

"In  any  case,"  I  resumed,  "beware  of  attacking  the 
men  of  antiquity ;  Monsieur  le  Cur6  will  tear  out  your 
eyes." 

"Ah,  the  villains!  how  they  plagued  me!  I  have 
kept  only  one  souvenir  of  them, —  that  of  the  imposi- 
tions they  caused  me!" 

"Permit  me,"  said  the  cure,  making  an  effort  to 
bring  his  friends  to  the  surface,  and  about  to  swamp 
himself  completely  in  my  opinion, — "permit  me;  you 
cannot  deny  certain  noble  virtues,  certain  heroic  acts, 
which  —  " 

"Delusions,  delusions!"  interrupted  Paul  de  Con- 
prat.  "  They  were  insupportable  villains ;  and  because 
they  are  dead  they  are  clothed  with  incredible  virtues 
to  humiliate  us  poor  fellows  who  are  living,  and  who 
are  worth  more  than  they.  Dieu !  what  an  excellent 
turkey ! " 


My  Uncle  and  My  Cure.  85 

And  while  talking  without  stopping,  he  ate  with 
an  animation  and  appetite  without  equal. 

The  slices  heaped  on  his  plate  disappeared  with  a 
rapidity  so  remarkable  that  there  was  a  moment  when 
my  aunt,  the  cure,  and  I  remained,  fork  in  air,  watch- 
ing him  in  silent  astonishment. 

"I  gave  you  fair  warning,"  he  said,  laughing,  "that 
I  was  as  hungry  as  a  cannibal, —  a  hunger  that  comes 
to  me,  by  the  way,  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  times 
a  year." 

"  What  a  sum  you  must  pay  out  for  your  table !  " 
cried  my  aunt,  whose  peculiarity  it  was  to  seize  on 
the  commercial  side  of  things,  and  to  say  what  she 
ought  not  to  say. 

"  Twenty-three  thousand  three  hundred  and  seventy- 
seven  francs,  Madame,"  answered  Monsieur  de  Conprat, 
in  all  seriousness. 

"It  is  not  possible,"  stammered  my  aunt,  stupefied. 

"You  seem  very  happy,  Monsieur,"  said  the  cur6, 
rubbing  his  hands. 

"Am  I  happy,  Monsieur  le  Cure?  I  believe  so, 
thoroughly.  And  look,  frankly  now,  is  it  very  natu- 
ral to  be  unhappy?" 

"Sometimes,"  answered  the  cure",  smiling. 

"  Ah,  bah !  unhappy  persons  are  generally  so  through 
their  own  fault,  because  they  take  life  at  cross  purposes. 
You  see,  unhappiness  does  not  exist ;  it  is  human  stu- 
pidity which  exists." 


86  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"But  that  is  already  an  unhappy  circumstance," 
said  the  cure. 

"Sufficiently  negative  in  itself,  Monsieur  le  Cur£; 
and  because  my  neighbour  is  a  fool,  it  does  not  follow 
that  I  should  imitate  him." 

"You  love  a  paradox,  Monsieur?  " 

"  Not  at  all ;  but  I  am  provoked  when  I  see  so  many 
people  make  their  lives  gloomy  through  an  unhealthy 
imagination.  I  suppose  they  do  not  eat  enough,  that 
they  live  on  larks  or  a  boiled  egg,  and  derange  the 
brain  at  the  same  time  as  the  stomach.  I  adore  life; 
I  think  that  every  one  should  find  it  delightful,  and 
that  it  has  but  one  fault, —  it  must  end,  and  that  so 
quickly." 

The  turkey,  the  salad,  the  curds,  all  were  devoured ; 
and  my  aunt  looked  with  a  face  which  was  no  longer 
gracious  at  the  skeleton  of  the  bird  on  which  she  had 
planned  to  feast  for  several  days.  We  were  about  to 
leave  the  table,  when  Suzon  half  opened  the  door,  and 
poking  her  head  through,  said  aggressively,  — 

"  I  have  made  some  coffee ;  shall  I  bring  it  ?  " 

7  O 

"  Who  gave  you  permission  -   "  began  my  aunt. 

"Yes,  yes,"  I  said,  interrupting  quickly;  "bring  it 
at  once." 

I  could  have  embraced  her  for  this  happy  thought, 
but  my  aunt  did  not  share  my  feelings.  She  disap- 
peared in  order  to  go  and  quarrel  with  Suzon,  and  we 
did  not  see  her  again,  except  in  the  salon. 


My  Uncle  and  My  Cure.  87 

"You  have  an  excellent  cook,  Cousin,"  said  Paul  de 
Conprat,  sipping  his  coffee. 

"  Yes,  but  such  a  scold !  " 

"That  is  a  detail  simply." 

"And  my  aunt,  what  do  you  think  of  her?  "  I  asked 
in  a  confidential  tone. 

"Well  —  rather  majestic,"  answered  Monsieur  de 
Conprat,   a  little  embarrassed. 

"  Ah,  majestic !  you  would  like  to  say  disagreeable  ?  " 

"Reine!  "  murmured  the  cure. 

"Oh,  well,  let  us  talk  of  something  else,  Monsieur 
le  Cure;  but  I  should  really  like  to  have  my  cousin's 
happy  disposition,  and  find  the  go.od  side  of  my 
aunt. " 

"  Have  a  little  practical  philosophy,  charming 
cousin;  it  supplies  a  solid  basis  for  happiness,  and 
is  the  only  philosophy  which  seems  to  me  to  have 
any  common-sense." 

"What  a  pity  that  you  could  not  have  been  my 
aunt ;  how  we  should  have  loved  each  other ! " 

"I  can  answer  for  that,"  he  cried,  laughing;  "and 
we  should  have  no  need  of  philosophy  to  arrive  at  that 
result.  But  if  it  is  the  same  to  you,  I  would  prefer 
not  to  change  my  sex,  and  to  be  your  uncle." 

"I  should  ask  nothing  better,  because  I  am  not  like 
Francis  I.  ;  for  my  part,  I  have  a  pronounced  antipathy 
to  women." 

"Truly,"  he  replied,  laughing  with  all  his  might, 
"you  know  the  tastes  of  Francis  I.  ?" 


88  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

The  cure  made  a  gesture  of  despair,  to  which 
Monsieur  de  Conprat  returned  an  expressive  wink  which 
seemed  to  say,  "Don't  be  disturbed;  I  understand." 

This  pantomime  irritated  me,  and  I  made  a  desper- 
ate attempt  to  grasp  its  hidden  meaning. 

"Speaking  of  uncles,"  I  said,  "you  know  Monsieur 
de  Pavol  very  well  ?  " 

"Yes,  very;  my  estate  is  within  a  league  of  his." 

"And  his  daughter,  what  is  she  like?" 

"  I  played  with  her  often  when  she  was  a  child,  but 
for  four  years  I  have  lost  sight  of  her.  She  is  said 
to  be  very  beautiful." 

"  How  much  I  should  like  to  be  at  Pavol !  "  I  sighed; 
"we  should  see  each  other  often." 

"Who  knows,  little  cousin?  —  perhaps  I  should  no 
longer  please  you  if  you  knew  me  better.  Neverthe- 
less, I  can  truly  say  that  I  am  a  good  fellow;  and 
except  that  I  have  a  passion  for  turkey,  and  love 
pretty  women  to  the  point  of  folly,  I  do  not  know 
that  I  have  any  small  vices." 

"  To  love  pretty  women  is  certainly  no  fault.  For 
my  part,  I  detest  ugly  people,  — my  aunt,  for  ex- 
ample. But  to  compare  a  turkey  to  a  pretty  woman 
is  scarcely  flattering  to  the  latter,  Cousin." 

"It  is  true;  I  admit  that  my  choice  of  words  was 
unhappy." 

"I  pardon  you,"  I  said  vivaciously.  "Now,  do  you 
think  me  pretty  ?  " 


My  Uncle  and  My  Cure.  89 

For  two  hours  at  least,  I  had  been  saying  over  and 
over  in  my  inmost  soul  that  I  must  not  let  the  oppor- 
tunity escape  of  enlightening  myself  by  a  frank  and 
competent  opinion  on  a  subject  of  thrilling  interest 
to  me.  Since  the  beginning  of  dinner  I  had  waited 
impatiently  for  the  time  to  ask  my  question.  Not 
that  I  had  any  doubts  as  to  the  answer;  but  to  hear 
absolutely  directly,  and  face  to  face,  that  one  is 
pretty,  from  some  one  other  than  a  cure,  is  truly 
delicious. 

"  Pretty,  my  cousin !  you  are  simply  lovely !  I  have 
never  seen  more  beautiful  eyes  nor  a  prettier  mouth." 

"  How  delightful !  and  how  agreeable  men  are,  what- 
ever my  aunt  may  say !  " 

"Does  not  your  aunt  like  men?  She  has  passed  the 
age  of  coquetry,  it  is  true." 

"Coquetry!  I  have  never  heard  of  it.  Do  you 
think  one  should  be  a  coquette  ? " 

"  Without  doubt,  Cousin ;  in  my  eyes,  it  is  a  great 
accomplishment. " 

"You  have  never  told  me  this,  Monsieur  le  Cure," 
I  cried. 

During  this  conversation  the  unhappy  cure  had  a 
foretaste  of  the  pains  of  purgatory.  He  mopped  his 
face,  and  had  great  difficulty  in  swallowing  his  coffee, 
which  seemed  to  him  very  bitter. 

"Monsieur  de  Conprat  is  laughing  at  you,"  he  said 
to  me. 


90  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"Are  you  really,  Cousin?  " 

"Not  at  all,"  answered  Paul  de  Conprat,  who  had 
the  appearance  of  being  highly  amused.  "To  my 
mind,  a  woman  who  is  not  a  coquette  is  not  a 
woman. " 

"Very  good;  I  will  try  to  become  one,  then." 

"  Let  us  go  into  the  salon,  Mademoiselle  de  Lavalle, " 
said  the  cur£,  rising. 

"Ah,"  thought  I,  "now  the  cure  is  provoked;  yet  I 
have  said  nothing  amiss. " 

The  rain  had  stopped,  the  clouds  dispersed;  and  I 
proposed  to  Paul  de  Conprat  to  take  a  walk  in  the 
garden.  Off  we  went,  without  waiting  permission, 
followed  by  the  cur6,  whose  face  was  almost  gloomy, 
and  who  thought  that  his  ewe  lamb  was  on  the  road 
to  perdition. 

We  ran  like  two  children  through  the  wet  grass; 
we  soaked  our  feet  and  ankles,  shouting  with  laugh- 
ter. We  talked,  we  chattered,  I  especially  telling  the 
events  of  my  life,  my  little  disappointments,  my  aspi- 
rations and  antipathies. 

Oh,  that  delightful,  charming,  delicious  evening! 

Monsieur  de  Conprat  climbed  into  a  cherry-tree,  and 
shaking  it  violently,  let  fall  on  me  all  the  rain-drops 
that  it  held.  With  his  mouth  full  of  cherries,  he 
cried  out  from  the  top  of  the  tree  that  the  rain-drops 
shone  in  my  beautiful  hair  like  an  ideal  crown,  and 
that  he  had  never  seen  anything  so  beautiful. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  93 

"And  Suzon,"  I  said  to  myself,  "pretended  that  he 
was  a  man  like  any  other.  Is  it  possible  one  can  be 
such  a  fool  ?  " 

We  returned  to  the  salon,  where  a  great  fire  was 
made  for  us  to  dry  ourselves.  Seated  side  by  side, 
Paul  de  Conprat  and  I,  we  talked  on  together  in  a 
subdued  tone. 

My  aunt,  stunned  by  my  audacity,  my  freedom  from 
restraint,  and  the  delight  which  shone  on  my  face, 
said  not  a  word.  The  cure,  charmed  at  my  happiness, 
was  nevertheless  not  so  actively  preoccupied  as  to 
forget  to  make  a  third  with  us.  Oh,  what  a  delight- 
ful evening! 

At  last  Monsieur  de  Conprat  rose  to  go,  and  we 
accompanied  him  into  the  courtyard. 

He  said  good-by  warmly  to  the  cure,  and  thanked 
my  aunt;  then,  coming  to  me,  he  took  my  hand  and 
said  in  a  low  tone, — 

"I  should  have  liked  this  evening  never  to  end, 
Cousin." 

"And  I  too!  but  you  will  come  again,  will  you 
not?" 

"Certainly,  and  very  soon,  I  hope." 

He  lifted  my  hand  to  his  lips;  and  it  must  truly  be 
the  case  that  human  nature  has,  at  the  bottom,  a  great 
depth  of  perversity,  for  this  homage  gave  me  a  pleas- 
ure so  new,  keen,  and  perfect  that  I  had  the  indecor- 
ous idea  —  mon  Dien  !  must  I  confess  it  ? —  yes,  I  had 


94  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

the  idea,  which  I  did  not  put  into  execution,  of 
throwing  myself  on  his  neck  and  embracing  him  on 
both  cheeks,  notwithstanding  my  aunt,  and  notwith- 
standing the  cure,  who  watched  us  like  some  new 
kind  of  dragon, —  an  excellent  dragon,  chubby  and 
genial. 


CHAPTER   VII. 


1\ /["  Y  mind  was  for  some  days  after  the  departure  of 
-*-*-••  Monsieur  de  Conprat  in  a  beatific  state  which 
it  would  be  difficult  for  me  to  describe.  I  had  mani- 
fold sensations  which  showed  themselves  outwardly 
in  gambols  and  pirouettes,  for  this  latter  exercise 
had  for  a  long  time  been  my  fashion  of  expressing  a 
multitude  of  feelings. 

After  pirouetting  wildly,  I  would  throw  myself  on 
the  grass,  and  looking  at  the  sky  would  day-dream 
over  many  things,  while  really  not  thinking  at  all. 
That  delightful  mental  state,  when  the  mind  is  in  a 
kind  of  drowsiness,  a  dreamy  tranquillity  which  re- 
sembles sleep,  although  it  may  be  very  wakeful,  has 
furnished  me  the  sweetest  food  for  recollection. 


g6  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

From  this  time,  too,  dates  my  passionate  love  for 
the  sky,  which  since  then  has  always  seemed  to  sym- 
pathize with  my  thoughts,  were  they  depressed  or 
cheerful,  serious  or  trifling. 

When  I  had  allowed  my  imagination  to  lose  itself 
in  shady  byways,  so  obscure  that  it  had  to  grope  its  way, 
I  would  bring  it  back  to  the  light  and  let  it  survey 
Monsieur  de  Conprat.  I  laughed  at  the  remembrance 
of  his  frank  face,  his  pleasant  smile,  and  his  white 
teeth.  I  loved  the  kiss  he  gave  my  hand,  and  I  ex- 
perienced a  veritable  glee  in  thinking  that,  had  I  car- 
ried out  my  idea,  I  should  have  kissed  him  on  both 
cheeks.  I  experienced  these  delightful  sensations  a 
long  while,  until  a  time  came  when  I  began  to  ask  my- 
self why  my  mind  passed  through  these  divers  phases. 

But  when  I  reached  this  delicate  question  I  was  all 
in  the  dark,  and  my  imagination  had  to  deal  with  such 
vaporous  fancies  that,  in  despair  of  the  task,  I  aban- 
doned the  attempt,  in  order  to  think  again  of  a  mouth 
which  pleased  me,  of  eyes  which  had  smiled  at  me, 
and  of  an  expression  which  I  had  firmly  decided  never 
to  forget. 

But  those  fantastic  personages,  my  thoughts,  did 
not  leave  me  long  in  peace,  and  little  by  little,  I  fell 
into  their  power.  Thus  I  was  all  uncertainty,  until 
one  day,  bethinking  me  to  corroborate  certain  im- 
pressions by  those  of  my  chosen  heroines,  I  was  en- 
lightened on  a  leading  point. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  97 

I  discovered  that  I  was  in  love,  and  that  love  was 
the  most  delightful  thing  in  the  world.  The  dis- 
covery filled  me  with  the  keenest  joy.  In  the  first 
place,  because  my  life  was  beautified  by  a  charm 
which,  though  undefined,  was  none  the  less  real ;  next, 
because  if  I  loved  I  was  certainly  loved  in  return. 
I,  in  fact,  loved  Monsieur  de  Conprat  because  he  had 
seemed  to  me  charming,  consequently  the  sight  of 
me  ought  to  produce  the  same  ravages  in  his  heart, 
because  he  thought  me  ravishing.  My  logic,  coupled 
with  complete  inexperience,  went  no  further,  and  was 
amply  sufficient  to  confirm  my  reasoning  and  to  make 
me  happy. 

One  discovery  led  to  another,  and  I  came  to  think 
that  charity  could  have  played  only  a  very  insignifi- 
cant r61e  in  the  love  which  Francis  I.  felt  for  ladies 
in  general,  and  Anne  de  Pisseleu  in  particular;  that 
love  was  not  in  the  least  like  affection,  for  I  adored 
my  cure",  and  had  not  the  least  desire  to  embrace  him, 
while  I  should  not  have  had  to  be  invited  to  throw 
myself  on  Paul  de  Conprat's  neck;  that  it  was  per- 
fectly ridiculous  to  assume  a  mysterious  and  evasive 
tone  in  speaking  of  so  natural  a  thing,  in  which  evi- 
dently there  was  not  the  shadow  of  harm. 

But  a  cure,  I  thought,  must  necessarily  have  errone- 
ous and  extraordinary  views  of  love,  because,  as  he  is 
not  permitted  to  marry,  he  cannot  fall  in  love.  All 
the  same,  Francis  I.  was  married  and  —  I  do  not 

7 


98  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

understand  anything  of  all  this,  and  must  get  some 
light. 

There  was  such  a  chaos  in  my  thoughts  that  not- 
withstanding my  scornful  prejudices  on  the  subject 
of  the  curb's  knowledge,  I  resolved  to  enter  on  this 
delicate  subject  with  him. 

The  poor  cure  saw  clearly  that  I  was  greatly  troubled 
in  mind,  but  he  had  too  much  finesse  and  good  sense 
to  seem  to  attach  importance  to  impressions  which 
would  have  acquired  undue  importance  had  he  sought 
my  confidence.  He  tried  to  distract  me  by  every 
means  in  his  reach ;  and  taking  up  the  habit  of  com- 
ing to  Buisson  every  day,  he  prolonged  the  lessons 
indefinitely. 

We  were  seated  at  our  window.  My  aunt,  who  had 
been  ailing  for  some  time,  had  retired  to  her  room; 
my  thoughts  were  away  in  the  moon,  and  the  cure  was 
exerting  himself  to  explain  my  problems  to  me. 

"  See,  now,  what  you  have  done,  Reine !  you  have 
worked  with  kilograms  instead  of  working  with 
grams.  And  here,  being  given  |  multiplied  by  —  " 

"Monsieur  le  Cure,"  I  said,  "guess  what  is  the 
most  fascinating  thing  in  the  world ! " 

"What  is 'it,  then,  Reine?" 

"  Love,  Monsieur  le  Cure. " 

"  What  are  you  talking  about,  ma  petite  ?  "  cried  the 
cure,  uneasily. 

"Oh,  of  something  that  I  know  very  well,"  I  an- 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  99 

swered,  nodding  my  head  sagely;  "I  even  ask  myself 
why  you  have  never  said  a  word  to  me  about  it,  since 
one  sees  it  every  day." 

"This  comes  from  reading  romances,  Mademoiselle; 
you  take  seriously  what  is  only  imagination." 

"  How  wrong  it  is  to  say  what  you  do  not  think, 
Monsieur  le  Cure!  You  know  perfectly  well  that 
people  fall  in  love  in  real  life,  and  that  it  is  per- 
fectly charming." 

"It  is  a  subject  that  does  not  concern  young  girls, 
Reine;  you  ought  not  to  speak  of  it." 

"  How  can  it  not  concern  young  girls,  when  it  is 
they  who  love  and  are  loved  ? " 

"How  unfortunate  I  am,"  cried  the  cure,  "to  have 
to  deal  with  such  a  head ! " 

"Don't  say  anything  bad  about  my  head,  my  dear 
cure;  as  for  me,  I  am  very  fond  of  it,  especially  since 
Monsieur  de  Conprat  thought  it  so  pretty." 

"Monsieur  de  Conprat  was  amusing  himself  with 
you,  Reine.  Make  up  your  mind  that  he  took  you  for 
a  little  girl  of  no  account." 

"Not  at  all,"  replied  I,  offended,  "for  he  kissed  my 
hand.  And  do  you  know  the  idea  that  came  to  me  at 
that  moment  ? " 

"Let  us  hear  it,"  answered  the  cur6,  who  was  on 
thorns. 

"Well,  then,  Monsieur  le  Cure\  I  was  on  the  point 
of  throwing  myself  on  his  neck." 


ioo  My  Uncle  and  My   Cure. 


"What  folly!  One  does  not  throw  one's  self  on 
anyone's  neck  unless  one  knows  them  intimately." 

"  Oh,  yes,  but  he  -  And  yet,  had  he  been  a 
woman,  the  idea  would  never  have  occurred  to  me." 

"Why  not,  Reine?     You  talk  nonsense. " 

"Oh,  because  —  " 

A  silence  followed  this  profound  reply,  and  I  stealth- 
ily examined  the  cur6,  who  moved  uneasily  in  his  seat 
and  took  snuff  to  conceal  his  embarrassment. 

"My  good  cure,"  I  said  in  an  insinuating  tone,  "if 
you  were  very  good-natured  — 

"What  then,  Reine?" 

"Well,  I  should  like  to  ask  you  a  few  little  ques- 
tions about  some  subjects  which  are  running  through 
my  head. " 

The  cur6  settled  himself  in  his  chair,  like  a  man 
who  suddenly  makes  a  grand  resolve. 

"Very  well,  Reine;  I  am  listening.  It  is  much 
better  to  speak  openly  of  what  is  occupying  your 
thoughts  than  to  puzzle  your  brain  and  not  come  to 
the  point." 

"  I  am  not  puzzling  at  all,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  and  I 
am  not  wandering  from  the  point ;  only  I  have  thought 
a  great  deal  of  love  because  —  " 

"Because? " 

"Oh,  nothing.  But  to  begin,  tell  me  why  it  is  that 
if  you  should  kiss  my  hand  I  should  think  it  ridicu- 
lous and  not  agreeable,  although  I  love  you  with  all 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  101 

my  heart,  while  it  is  exactly  the  contrary  when 
Monsieur  de  Conprat  is  in  question." 

"What?  what?     What  is  it  you  say,  Reine?  " 

"  I  say  that  I  found  it  very  delightful  to  have 
Monsieur  de  Conprat  kiss  my  hand,  while  if  you  — 

"But,  ma  petite,  your  question  is  absurd,  and  the 
feeling  of  which  you  speak  means  nothing,  and  is  not 
worth  considering." 

"Ah,  that  is  not  my  opinion.  I  have  thought  a 
good  deal,  and  this  is  what  I  have  discovered :  it  is 
that  if  Monsieur  de  Conprat's  action  seemed  delight- 
ful to  me,  it  is  because  he  is  young,  and  might 
marry  me,  while  you  are  old,  and,  as  a  cure,  can 
never  marry." 

"Yes,  yes,"  the  cure  answered  mechanically. 

"For  one  always  loves  one's  husband  dearly;  is  it 
not  so  ?  " 

"  No  doubt !     No  doubt !  " 

"  Now,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  tell  me  whether  it  is  true 
that  men  can  love  many  women." 

"I  know  nothing  about  it,"  said  the  cure,  becoming 
irritated. 

"  But  you  certainly  ought  to  know.  Then  can  a  mar- 
ried man  love  another  woman  than  his  wife,  as  Francis 
I.  loved  Anne  de  Pisseleu  when  he  was  married  ?  " 

"Francis  I.  was  a  mauvais  snjet,"  cried  the  exas- 
perated cure ;  "  and  Buckingham,  whom  you  admire  so 
much,  was  another!" 


IO2  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

" Man  Dieu!"  I  exclaimed,  "everyone  has  his  pecu- 
liarities, and  I  do  not  see  why  one  should  consider  it 
a  crime  to  love  several  women.  Queen  Claude  and 
the  Duchess  of  Buckingham  were  perhaps  like  my 
aunt.  Besides,  I  am  coming  to  find  out  that  the 
feelings  do  not  keep  themselves  under  control,  and 
they  can  no  more  refuse  to  love  than  I  — 

"What?     Reine!" 

"Nothing,  Monsieur  le  Cure;  but  I  am  afraid  that  I 
have  a  weakness  for  mauvais  sujets,  for  I  find  Bucking- 
ham especially  charming." 

"  Listen,  ma  petite ;  I  have  tried  to  make  you  under- 
stand some  things  since  you  read  Walter  Scott,  and 
you  appear  to  have  understood  absolutely  nothing." 

"Listen  to  me,  my  dear  cure;  your  explanations 
are  not  very  lucid,  and  there  is  so  much  that  is  not 
clear  to  my  mind.  All  this  is  very  strange,"  I  con- 
tinued musingly.  "At  least,  tell  me,  Monsieur  le 
Cur6,  why  love  arouses  your  indignation?" 

"Reine,"  said  the  cur6,  out  of  patience,  "this  is 
enough.  You  have  such  a  way  of  putting  your  ques- 
tions that  it  is  impossible  to  answer  you.  I  say  to 
you  in  all  seriousness  that  there  are  subjects  of 
which  you  should  not  speak,  and  which  you  cannot 
understand,  because  you  are  too  young." 

The  cur£  put  his  hat  under  his  arm  and  departed. 
I  ran  to  the  doorstep  and  cried,— 

"You  may  say  what  you  will,  my  dear  cure\  but  I 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  103 

know  perfectly  well  what  love  is;  it  is  the  most  de- 
lightful thing  in  the  world!  Vive  r amour!" 

The  cure  let  two  days  go  by  without  coming  to 
Buisson;  therefore,  full  of  contrition  at  having  been 
so  teasing,  on  the  third  day  I  took  my  way  to  the 
presbytere  to  beg  his  pardon.  I  found  him  in  his 
kitchen  before  a  frugal  breakfast,  which  he  was  eat- 
ing with  equal  animation  and  appetite. 

"Monsieur  le  Cure,"  I  said  in  a  fairly  humble  tone, 
"are  you  angry? " 

"A  little,  petite  Reine;  you  will  never  listen  to 
me." 

"  I  promise  not  to  speak  of  love  again,  Monsieur  le 
Cure." 

"  Try,  above  all,  Reine,  not  to  think  of  things  which 
you  do  not  understand." 

"  Oh,  that  I  do  not  understand ! "  I  cried,  taking 
fire  immediately;  "I  understand  perfectly,  and  in 
spite  of  all  the  cures  on  the  earth,  I  will  maintain 
that  —  " 

"Come,"  interrupted  the  discouraged  cure;  "here 
you  are  in  fault  already ! " 

"It  is  true,  my  dear  cure;  but  I  assure  you  that  a 
cure  understands  nothing  at  all  of  these  things." 

"And  Reine  de  Lavalle  no  more.  I  will  go  and 
give  you  your  lesson  to-day,  ma  petite." 

And  in  this  fashion  ended  the  most  serious  dispute 
I  ever  had  with  my  cure. 


104  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

Nevertheless,  as  the  days  went  by  and  Paul  de  Con- 
prat  did  not  return,  my  nervous  system  began  to  give 
way  and  showed  an  irritability  which  boded  ill.  A 
month  after  my  memorable  adventure,  I  had  lost  my 
hopes  and  my  tranquillity;  and,  my  ennui  contribut- 
ing, I  fell  into  a  state  of  gloomy  depression. 

It  was  then  that  the  cure"  quarrelled  with  my  aunt, 
who  turned  him  out  of  the  house. 

Seated  under  the  window  of  the  salon,  I  heard  the 
following  conversation:  — 

"Madame,"  said  the  cure,  "I  have  come  to  speak 
to  you  about  Reine. " 

"Why  about  her?" 

"The  child  is  tired  and  ill,  Madame.  Monsieur 
de  Conprat's  visit  opened  to  her  intelligence  hori- 
zons upon  which  light  had  already  been  thrown  by 
some  romances  she  had  read.  She  must  have  some 
diversion." 

"Diversion!  Where  would  you  like  me  to  take  her? 
I  am  not  able  to  move.  I  am  ill !  " 

"  For  that  reason  I  do  not  count  on  you  to  furnish 
her  diversion,  Madame.  Monsieur  de  Pavol  must  be 
written  to,  and  asked  to  take  her  to  his  house  for 
some  time." 

"Monsieur  de  Pavol  written  to!  Certainly  not! 
The  child  would  never  want  to  come  back." 

"  That  is  possible ;  but  it  is  a  secondary  considera- 
tion, which  we  can  take  up  later.  Inasmuch  as  she 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  105 

is  destined  to  live  some  day  or  other  in  the  world,  it 
seems  to  me  necessary  that  she  should  change  her 
mode  of  life,  and  see  many  things  of  which  she  has 
no  conception." 

"  I  will  not  hear  of  it,  Monsieur  le  Cure.  Reine 
shall  not  leave  here ! " 

"But,  Madame,"  replied  the  cure,  growing  warm, 
"  I  say  again  that  the  matter  does  not  admit  of  delay. 
Reine  is  depressed ;  her  brain  is  active  and  constantly 
working.  I  am  certain  that  she  fancies  herself  in 
love  with  Monsieur  de  Conprat. " 

"It  is  all  the  same  to  me,"  said  my  aunt,  who 
was  entirely  incapable  of  understanding  the  cure's 
reasons. 

"It  has  been  said  that  solitude  is  the  Devil's  advo- 
cate, Madame;  and  it  is  perfectly  true  with  youth. 
Solitude  is  injurious  to  Reine;  a  little  diversion 
will  make  her  forget  what  is  really  only  a  childish 
impression." 

"What  ridiculous  ideas  the  cure  has!"  I  thought. 
"To  treat  lightly  such  a  serious  thing,  and  to  be- 
lieve that  some  day  I  shall  forget  Monsieur  de 
Conprat ! " 

"Monsieur  le  Cure,"  said  my  aunt,  in  her  dryest 
tone,  "mind  your  own  business.  I  will  act  accord- 
ing to  my  judgment  and  not  yours." 

"Madame,  I  love  the  child  with  all  my  heart,  and 
will  not  hear  of  her  being  unhappy,"  answered  the 


io6  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

cure",  in  a  tone  I  did  not  recognize.  "  You  have  buried 
her  at  Buisson ;  you  have  never  given  her  the  slight- 
est gratification;  and  I  can  say  that,  had  it  not  been 
for  me,  she  would  have  grown  up  in  ignorance  and 
stupidity,  and  would  have  been  a  wild,  half-nourished 
little  plant.  I  repeat,  Monsieur  de  Pavol  must  be 
written  to." 

"  This  is  too  much !  "  cried  my  aunt,  furious.  "  Am  I 
not  the  mistress  in  my  own  home?  Leave  the  house, 
Monsieur  le  Cure,  and  don't  put  foot  in  it  again." 

"Very  well,  Madame;  I  know  now  what  I  must  do, 
and  I  see  clearly  to-day  that  if  I  have  not  acted 
sooner,  it  is  because  I  was  blinded  by  the  selfish 
pleasure  of  seeing  my  little  Reine  constantly." 

The  cure  found  me  in  the  road  all  in  tears 

"Is  it  possible,  my  good  cure, —  turned  out  of  the 
house  on  my  account  ?  What  is  going  to  become  of 
us  if  we  cannot  see  each  other  any  more?" 

"You  heard  the  discussion,  my  little  child?  " 

"  Yes,  yes ;  I  was  under  the  window.  Ah,  what  a 
woman  !  what  — 

"Come,  come;  be  calm,  Reine,"  said  the  cure",  who 
was  all  flushed  and  trembling.  "This  very  night  I 
shall  write  to  your  uncle." 

"Write  soon,  my  dear  cure;  perhaps  he  will  come 
for  me  at  once." 

"Let  us  hope  so,"  said  the  cure,  with  a  smile  kindly 
but  a  little  sad. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  107 

But  other  duties  prevented  his  writing  that  same 
night  to  Monsieur  de  Pavol;  and  the  next  day  my 
aunt,  who  had  been  struggling  for  some  weeks  against 
disease,  fell  dangerously  ill.  Five  days  later  death 
knocked  at  the  door  of  Buisson,  and  changed  the 
aspect  of  my  life. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 


T  TOOK  refuge  at  the  presbytere  immediately  after 
the  death  of  my  aunt,  who  never  once  asked  to 
see  me  during  her  illness,  and  who  was  nursed  de- 
votedly by  Suzon. 

The  cure"  had  written  to  Monsieur  de  Pavol  to  inform 
him  that  Madame  de  Lavalle  was  ill ;  but  the  progress 
of  the  disease  was  so  rapid  that  my  uncle  received  the 
despatch  announcing  its  fatal  result  before  he  had 
been  able  to  answer  the  cure's  letter.  He  telegraphed 
at  once  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  be  pres- 
ent at  the  funeral  service. 

The  next  day  we  received  a  letter  in  which  he  said 
that  as  he  had  not  yet  recovered  from  an  attack  of 
gout,  he  should  not  come  to  Buisson.  He  begged  the 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  109 

cure  to  take  me,  a  few  days  later,  to  C ,  when  he 

hoped  to  be  well  enough  to  come  there  to  meet  me. 

My  aunt  was  buried  without  pomp  and  without  cere- 
mony. She  had  not  been  loved,  and  departed  for  the 
other  world  without  a  long  train  of  mourners. 

I  returned  from  the  interment,  making  many  efforts 
to  feel  a  little  sorry,  but  could  not.  Whatever  may 
have  been  the  reproaches  of  my  conscience,  a  feeling 
of  deliverance  was  predominant  in  my  head  and  my 
heart.  Nevertheless,  had  I  known  the  saying  of  a 
celebrated  man,  I  should  certainly  have  appropriated 
it,  and  I  declare  that  I  should  have  cried  in  a  superb 
outburst  of  misanthropy,  — 

"  I  know  not  what  goes  on  in  the  heart  of  a  wretch ; 
but  I  know  that  of  an  honest  little  girl,  and  what  I  see 
there  frightens  me." 

But  the  saying  being  entirely  unknown  to  me,  I 
could  not  use  it  to  appease  the  manes  of  my  aunt. 

My  uncle  had  fixed  on  the  loth  of  August  as  the 
day  for  me  to  leave;  it  was  now  the  8th,  and  I  was 
passing  the  two  days  with  the  cur6,  whose  cheerful- 
ness departed  hourly  at  the  thought  of  our  separation. 

Tuesday  morning  he  prepared  for  me  an  excellent 
breakfast,  and  we  took  our  places  face  to  face  for  the 
last  time,  to  try  to  force  ourselves  to  eat.  But  each 
mouthful  choked  me";  and  I  had  all  the  trouble  in  the 
world  to  keep  back  my  tears. 

The  poor  cure  had  passed  the  night  without  sleep. 


no  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

He  was  too  full  of  grief  for  that;  and,  besides,  not 
being  able  to  accompany  me  to  C ,  he  had  writ- 
ten my  uncle  a  letter  of  seventeen  pages,  as  I  learned 
later  on,  in  which  he  enumerated  my  accomplish- 
ments, great  and  small  and  medium.  As  to  faults, 
they  were  not  mentioned. 

"My  dear  little  child,"  he  said  to  me  after  a  long 
silence,  "you  will  never  forget  your  old  cur6?" 

"Never!     Never!"  I  said  earnestly. 

"And  you  will  not  forget  my  counsels  either.  Dis- 
trust your  imagination,  petite  Reine.  I  may  compare 
it  to  a  beautiful  flame  which  lightens  and  vivifies  the 
mind  when  judiciously  fed,  but  which,  if  given  too 
much  nourishment,  becomes  a  bonfire  which  spreads 
to  the  house,  and  the  conflagration  leaves  behind  it 
only  ashes  and  dross." 

"I  will  strive  to  manage  the  flame  wisely,  Mon- 
sieur le  Cur£;  but  I  confess  that  I  am  very  fond  of 
bonfires." 

"  Yes ;  but  beware  of  a  conflagration !  Don't  let  us 
play  with  fire,  Reine." 

"Just  a  little  bonfire,  Monsieur  le  Cur6, —  that  is 
charming.  And  if  one  is  afraid  of  a  conflagration, 
one  can  throw  cold  water  on  the  grate." 

"But  where  is  the  cold  water  to  be  found,  ma 
petite  ? " 

"Ah,  I  do  not  know  yet,  but  some  day  perhaps  I 
shall  find  out." 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  1 1 1 

"  God  grant  you  may  not,  my  dear  little  child !  Cold 
water  means  disillusion  and  heartaches;  and  I  shall 
pray  fervently  every  day  that  they  may  be  removed 
from  your  path." 

Tears  came  to  my  eyes  when  I  heard  my  curd  speak 
in  this  way,  and  I  swallowed  a  great  glass  of  water  to 
keep  down  my  emotion. 

"Before  I  leave  you,"  I  resumed,  "I  ought  to  tell 
you  that  I  believe  I  have  a  very  strong  taste  for 
coquetry. " 

"It  is  the  weak  spot  with  all  women,  that  I  know," 
said  the  cure,  with  his  kindly  smile,  "but  not  a  great 
fault,  Reine.  As  to  the  rest,  mixing  with  the  world 
will  teach  you  to  govern  your  feelings,  and,  besides, 
your  uncle  will  be  able  to  advise  you." 

"  How  charming  the  world  will  be,  Monsieur  le 
Cure !  and  I  am  sure  to  please,  being  so  pretty  - 

"Without  doubt,  without  doubt;  but  distrust  exag- 
gerated compliments,  and  be  on  your  guard  against 
vanity." 

"  Bah !  it  is  so  natural  to  love  to  please ;  there  is  no 
harm  in  that." 

"Hum!  That  is  a  rather  lax  doctrine,"  answered 
the  cure,  ruffling  up  his  hair.  "Eh,  well,  your  argu- 
ments are  those  of  your  age,  and,  Heaven  be  thanked, 
you  have  not  yet  to  say,  as  in  Ecclesiastes,  all  is 
vanity,  and  nothing  but  vanity." 

"What   an   exaggerator   that    Ecclesiastes    is!    and 


U2  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

then  he  is  so  old.  I  fancy  that  his  ideas  must  be 
superannuated." 

"Come,  come;  let  us  leave  the  subject!  I  am  per- 
fectly aware  that  the  Holy  Scriptures  and  the  thoughts 
of  a  poor  country  cure  cannot  be  understood  by  a 
pretty  young  girl,  who  appears  to  me  to  have  a  very 
good  opinion  of  her  appearance." 

He  looked  at  me  smiling,  but  his  lips  trembled,  for 
the  time  for  departure  was  close  at  hand. 

"Be  careful  not  to  be  cold  on  the  way,  Reine." 

"  But,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  it  is  the  middle  of  August. 
It  is  stifling." 

"It  is  true,"  answered  the  cure,  who  seemed  a  little 
dazed.  "Then  do  not  wrap  too  warmly,  for  fear  of 
taking  a  chill." 

We  rose  from  the  table,  after  vain  attempts  to 
nibble  some  bits  of  bread  and  pate. 

"  I  am  so  unhappy !  "  I  cried,  bursting  suddenly  into 
sobs.  "I  am  so  unhappy  at  leaving  you,  my  dear 
curd!" 

"Do  not  cry,  do  not  cry!  it  is  perfectly  absurd," 
said  the  cure,  not  noticing  that  big  tears  were  run- 
ning  down  his  own  cheeks. 

"Ah,  my  cure,"  I  said,  seized  with  sudden  remorse, 
"I  have  been  such  a  plague." 

"No,  no;  you  have  been  the  joy  of  my  life,  my  only 
happiness. " 

"What  will  become  of  you  without  me,  my  poor 
cure  ? " 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  113 

The  cure  made  no  reply.  He  took  some  steps  up 
and  down  the  room,  blowing  his  nose  loudly,  and  suc- 
ceeded in  conquering  the  emotion  which  was  choking 
him,  and  almost  causing  him  to  break  into  sobs. 

The  maringote  was  at  the  door.     Perrine,  in  all  her 

finery,  was  to  go  with  me  as  far  as  C and  put  me 

in  my  uncle's  arms.  The  farmer  had  been  directed 
to  drive  us,  in  place  of  Suzon,  who,  thoroughly  to  her 
regret,  remained  provisionally  in  charge  at  Buisson. 
I  told  Jean  to  drive  on ;  and  the  cure  and  I  walked  a 
little  way  so  as  to  be  longer  together. 

"I  will  write  you  every  day,  Monsieur  le  Cure." 

"  I  do  not  ask  so  much  as  that,  my  dear  child ;  write 
me  once  a  month,  and  then  very  intimately." 

"  I  will  write  you  everything,  absolutely  everything, 
even  my  views  on  love. " 

"We  shall  see  about  that,"  said  the  cure,  with  an  in- 
credulous smile.  "  The  life  which  you  will  lead  will  be 
so  new  to  you,  so  full  of  amusements,  that  I  do  not 
count  very  much  on  your  keeping  your  promise  exactly. " 

Jean  had  stopped  to  wait  for  us,  and  I  saw  that 
we  must  part.  I  grasped  my  cure's  hands,  crying 
bitterly. 

"  Life  has  some  very  wretched  moments,  Monsieur 
le  Cure!" 

"They  will  pass,  they  will  pass,"  he  answered  in  a 
broken  voice.  "  Good-by,  my  dear,  good  little  child, 
do  not  forget  me,  and  mistrust  —  mistrust  — 

8 


1 14  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

But  he  could  not  finish  the  sentence,  and  helped 
me  hurriedly  climb  into  the  cart. 

I  took  my  aunt's  old  place,  crushed  on  one  side  by 
a  trunk  which  had  lost  its  lock,  and  on  the  other  by 
innumerable  packages  of  the  most  outlandish  shape, 
made  up  by  Perrine. 

"Good-by,  my  cure;  good-by,  my  old  cureV'  I 
cried. 

He  waved  me  an  affectionate  adieu,  and  turned  back 
brusquely.  Through  my  tears,  I  saw  him  stride  away 
and  put  his  hat  on  his  head,  —  a  proof  absolute  that 
his  mind  was  not  only  in  the  most  violent  agitation, 
but  really  topsy-turvy. 

After  having  sobbed  for  ten  good  minutes,  I  con- 
cluded that  it  was  time  to  follow  the  advice  of  Perrine, 
which  she  kept  repeating  over  and  over,  - 

"You  must  be  reasonable,  Mamselle;  you  must  be 
reasonable." 

I  thrust  my  handkerchief  into  my  pocket,  and  set 
myself  to  thinking. 

Truly,  life  is  a  very  strange  thing.  Who  would 
have  believed,  a  fortnight  before,  that  my  dreams 
would  have  come  true  so  promptly  and  that  I  should 
soon  see  Monsieur  de  Conprat?  This  cheerful  idea 
chased  the  last  clouds  which  darkened  my  spirits; 
and  I  began  to  note  that  the  sky  was  blue,  life 
sweet,  and  that  aunts  who  go  to  heaven  or  purgatory 
are  gifted  with  superior  intelligence. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  117 

My  second  thought  was  of  my  uncle.  I  was  much 
concerned  as  to  the  impression  I  should  make  on  him ; 
and  I  was  sure  that  the  black  dress  and  the  curious 
hat,  which  Suzon  had  stuck  together,  were  perfectly 
ridiculous.  The  unhappy  hat  caused  me  a  veritable 
torture, —  I  mean  a  mental  torture.  Made  with  crepe 
which  dated  from  the  death  of  Monsieur  de  Lavalle, 
it  had  the  look  of  a  pancake  which  had  been  a  play- 
ground for  impertinent  snails.  It  was  evidently  un- 
becoming; and  this  idea  being  unbearable,  I  took  off 
my  hat,  I  rolled  it  into  a  wad,  and  I  put  it  in  my 
pocket,  the  size  and  depth  of  which  did  honour  to 
Suzon's  practical  genius. 

Next,  I  was  tormented  by  the  fear  of  appearing 
stupid,  for  I  knew  that  a  multitude  of  things  which 
seemed  natural  to  all  the  world  would  be  a  source 
of  surprise  and  wonder  to  me.  I  resolved,  then,  so 
as  not  to  expose  my  self-esteem  to  the  danger  of  ridi- 
cule, to  hide  my  astonishments  carefully. 

These  various  preoccupations  prevented  me  from 
finding  the  journey  long;  and  I  thought  we  were  still 

far  from  C when  we  were  just  about  reaching 

it.  We  went  directly  to  the  railway  station  after 
having  passed  through  the  town  as  rapidly  as  the 
stiff  joints  of  our  horse  would  permit. 

My  uncle  being  neither  stout  nor  thin,  I  had  natu- 
rally pictured  him  as  both.  I  was  therefore  much 
astonished  when  I  saw  a  genial  gentleman,  with  a 


1 1 8  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

careless  gait,  approach  the  cart  and  cry, —  if  my  uncle 
could  ever  cry,— 

"Good-morning,  my  niece;  I  had  really  begun  to 
think  that  I  had  made  a  mistake  in  expecting  you." 

He  gave  me  his  hand  to  help  me  down,  and  em- 
braced me  cordially.  After  which,  examining  me 
from  head  to  foot,  he  said  to  me,— 

"  Not  taller  than  a  fairy,  but  devilish  pretty !  " 

"That  is  exactly  my  opinion,  Uncle,"  I  answered, 
dropping  my  eyes  modestly. 

"Ah,  that  is  your  opinion?  " 

"  Yes,  and  that  of  my  cure,  and  that  of  —  But  here 
is  a  letter  from  the  cure  for  you,  Uncle. " 

"Why  is  he  not  here?" 

"  He  was  prevented  by  clerical  duties." 

"  So  much  the  worse ;  I  should  have  been  happy  to 
see  him.  You  have  no  hat,  Niece  ? " 

"  Yes,  Uncle,  it  is  in  my  pocket. " 

"  In  your  pocket !     Why  there  ?  " 

"Because  it  is  hideous,  Uncle." 

"  An  excellent  reason !  Who  ever  saw  a  hat  carried 
in  a  pocket!  One  cannot  travel  without  a  hat,  ma 
petite.  Hurry  and  put  it  on,  while  I  check  your 
baggage." 

Somewhat  disconcerted  by  this  reprimand,  I  re- 
placed my  hat  on  my  head,  not  without  proof  that  a 
journey  in  the  pocket  is  not  healthful  for  this  product 
of  human  industry. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Ciir'e.  1 1 9 

After  this  I  said  good-by  to  Jean  and  Perrine. 

"Ah,  Mamselle,"  said  Perrine  to  me,  "if  you  were 
a  good  and  beautiful  cow,  I  could  not  feel  worse  in 
leaving  you." 

"Many  thanks,"  I  said,  half  laughing,  half  crying. 
"Let  us  embrace  and  say  good-by." 

I  kissed  Perrine's  firm  red  cheeks,  on  which,  I 
greatly  fear,  more  than  one  soft-spoken  scamp  had 
left  kisses  sly  or  resounding. 

"Good-by,  Jean." 

"Good-by,  Mamselle,"  said  Jean,  laughing  stupidly, 
which  was  his  way  of  showing  his  feelings. 

A  few  moments  after,  I  was  in  the  train  seated  oppo- 
site my  uncle,  really  scared  and  dizzy  at  the  bustle 
of  the  station  and  the  novelty  of  my  position. 

When  I  had  recovered  myself  a  little,  I  examined 
Monsieur  de  Pavol. 

My  uncle,  of  average  height,  well  built,  with  broad 
shoulders  and  thick  red  hands  not  very  well  cared  for, 
did  not  at  first  glance  present  an  aristocratic  appear- 
ance. He  had  a  red  face,  high  forehead,  large  nose, 
and  hair  like  a  brush  cut  very  short;  his  eyes  were 
small  and  piercing,  and  deep-sunk  beneath  eyebrows 
bushy  and  prominent.  But  under  this  commonplace 
exterior  could  be  seen  at  once  the  man  of  the  world 
and  the  man  of  family.  His  strongest  feature,  the 
one  most  striking,  was  his  mouth.  Clear-cut,  strong, 
and  fairly  handsome,  although  the  lower  lip  was  a 


I2O  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

little  thick,  his  mouth  had  an  expression  fine,  ironi- 
cal, humorous,  crafty,  and  satirical  which  disconcerted 
the  least  timid  and  floored  them  on  the  spot.  In 
observing  it,  one  forgot  entirely  the  commonplace  in 
my  uncle's  face,  or  rather  one  found  nothing  common- 
place in  it,  and  had  to  admit  that  his  rough  features 
were  a  frame  which  brought  out  admirably  his  intel- 
lectual mouth. 

My  uncle  did  not  talk  much,  and  always  slowly, 
but  what  he  said  was  generally  to  the  point.  He 
sometimes  used  strong  expressions,  which  produced 
a  curious  effect,  because  they  were  uttered  slowly 
and  quietly.  He  was  only  sixty  years  old;  but  be- 
ing subject  to  frequent  attacks  of  the  gout,  his  mind 
was  a  little  dulled  by  physical  suffering.  But  if 
he  had  lost  his  old  quickness  of  repartee,  his  mouth, 
by  a  movement  nearly  imperceptible,  expressed  all 
the  shades  of  difference  between  irony,  shrewd- 
ness, open  ridicule,  or  satire;  and  I  have  seen  per- 
sons annihilated  before  my  uncle  had  uttered  a 
word. 

I  was  naturally  too  inexperienced  to  make  at  once 
a  searching  study  of  Monsieur  de  Pavol;  but  I  watched 
him  with  the  greatest  interest.  He,  on  his  part,  while 
reading  the  letter  which  I  had  brought  him,  threw  at 
me,  from  time  to  time,  a  scrutinizing  glance,  as  if 
to  satisfy  himself  that  my  face  did  not  contradict  the 
cure's  assertions. 


My  Uncle  and  My    Cure.  121 

>" 

"You  look  at  me  very  fixedly,  my  niece,"  he  said 
to  me.  "Do  you  think  me  handsome,  perchance?" 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world !  " 

My  uncle  made  a  slight  grimace. 

"  That  is  frankness,  or  I  do  not  know  it.  And  can 
you  tell  me  why  you  are  so  pale?" 

"Because  I  am  dying  of  fear, Uncle." 

"Fear!  and  of  what?" 

"  We  are  going  so  fast, —  it  is  frightful !  " 

"  Ah,  very  good,  I  understand.  It  is  your  first  jour- 
ney. But  do  not  be  alarmed;  there  is  no  danger." 

"  And  my  cousin,  Uncle,  is  she  at  Pavol  ?  " 

"Certainly;  she  will  be  greatly  pleased  to  make 
your  acquaintance." 

My  uncle  asked  me  some  questions  about  my  aunt 
and  my  Itfe  at  Buisson ;  then  he  took  a  newspaper  and 
said  not  a  word  until  we  were  at  V . 

We  there  got  into  a  landau,  with  two  horses,  which 
was  to  take  us  to  Pavol.  My  heavy  packages  were 
piled  in  this  elegant  carriage  as  they  best  could  be, 
and  presented  a  sorry  appearance  which  mortified  me 
greatly. 

Hardly  were  we  in  our  seats  than  my  uncle  gave 
me  a  package  of  cakes  to  cheer  me  up,  and  plunged 
into  a  fresh  newspaper. 

This  method  of  procedure  began  to  irritate  me. 

Besides  its  being  my  way  not  to  be  long  silent,  I 
had  a  great  many  questions  to  ask;  so  when  I  had 


122  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

grown  used  to  the  novelty  of  finding  myself  borne 
along  in  a  handsome,  easy,  well-upholstered  carriage, 
I  ventured  to  break  the  silence. 

"Uncle,"  I  said,  "if  you  don't  care  to  read  any 
more,  we  might  talk  a  little." 

"Willingly,  my  niece,"  said  my  uncle,  folding  up 
his  paper  at  once.  "I  thought  I  was  pleasing  you 
by  leaving  you  to  your  thoughts.  What  are  we  going 
to  talk  about  ?  Shall  it  be  the  Eastern  question,  politi- 
cal economy,  doll's  dresses,  or  the  habits  of  monkeys?  " 

"All  these  are  of  little  interest  to  me;  and  as  to 
the  habits  of  monkeys,  I  fancy,  Uncle,  that  I  know  as 
much  on  that  subject  as  you." 

"It  is  very  possible,"  replied  Monsieur  de  Pavol, 
much  astonished  at  my  self-possession. 

"  Tell  me,  Uncle,  are  you  not  a  little  of  a  scamp  ? " 

"  Heh !  what  the  devil  do  you  say,  my  niece?  " 

"  I  ask  you,  Uncle,  if  you  are  not  a  little  of  a  scamp 
and  a  bully?  " 

" you,  are  you  laughing  at  me?"  cried  my 

uncle,  using  a  word  entirely  unparliamentary. 

"Don't  be  angry,  Uncle;  I  am  beginning  a  study  of 
morals,  more  interesting  than  the  study  of  monkeys. 
I  want  to  know  whether  my  aunt  was  right;  she  as- 
serted that  all  men  were  scamps." 

"Then  your  aunt  had  not  common-sense." 

"She  had  a  great  deal  when  she  departed  for  the 
other  world,  but  not  at  any  other  time." 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  123 

Monsieur  de  Pavol  looked  at  me  with  evident 
astonishment. 

"  Ah,  indeed,  my  niece !  you  have  a  rather  crude  way 
of  expressing  your  thought !  You  did  not  get  on,  then, 
with  Madame  de  Lavalle?  " 

"  Not  at  all.  She  was  very  cross,  and  beat  me  more 
than  once.  Ask  the  cure,  whom  she  turned  out  of  the 
house  on  my  account  when  he  stood  up  for  my  rights. 
And  how  did  it  happen,  Uncle,  that  you  left  me  so 
long  with  her  ?  She  was  a  woman  of  the  people,  and 
you  would  not  have  liked  her." 

"When  your  parents  died,  Reine,  my  wife  was 
very  ill,  and  I  was  only  too  glad  that  my  sister-in-law 
was  willing  to  take  charge  of  you.  I  saw  you  when 
you  were  six  years  old;  you  seemed  then  happy  and 
well  cared  for,  and  since,  upon  my  word,  I  had  nearly 
forgotten  you.  I  regret  it  now  keenly,  since  you  were 
not  happy." 

"  You  will  keep  me  with  you  now  always,  Uncle?  " 

"Yes,  certainly,"  said  Monsieur  de  Pavol,  with 
almost  animation. 

"When  I  say  always,  I  mean  until  my  marriage, 
for  I  shall  marry  soon." 

"  You  will  marry  soon !  What,  you  have  hardly 
left  the  nursery,  and  you  talk  of  marrying!  Mar- 
riage is  a  foolish  invention,  understand  that,  my 
niece." 

"  Why  ? " 


124  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

i 

"Women  are  not  worth  a  rap,"  said  my  uncle,  in  a 
tone  of  conviction. 

I  threw  myself  back  into  my  corner,  shocked,  as  I 
thought  this  estimate  was  not  very  flattering  to  my 
Aunt  Pavol.  When  I  had  meditated  over  my  uncle's 
remark,  I  answered,  - 

"  But  since  I  shall  marry  a  man,  it  is-  all  the  same 
to  me  that  women  are  not  worth  a  rap.  My  husband 
will  have  to  arrange  matters  with  me  as  best  he 
can." 

"  Here  is  logic  for  you !  You  know  how  to  reason, 
it  appears.  Young  girls  are  all  crazy  to  marry,  —  it 
is  a  well-known  fact." 

"  Does  my  cousin  share  my  ideas  ?  " 

"Yes,"  replied  my  uncle,  gloomily. 

"Ah,  so  much  the  better,"  I  said,  rubbing  my 
hands.  "  Is  my  cousin  tall  ?  " 

"Tall  and  lovely,"  answered  Monsieur  de  Pavol, 
complacently;  "a  veritable  goddess  and  the  delight 
of  my  eyes.  But  you  will  see  her  in  a  moment,  for 
we  are  just  arriving." 

We  were,  in  fact,  turning  into  an  avenue  of  huge 
elms  which  led  to  the  chateau. 

My  cousin  awaited  us  on  the  steps,  and  received 
me  in  her  arms  with  the  majesty  of  a  queen  accord- 
ing a  favour  to  a  subject. 

" Dieu!  how  beautiful  you  are!"  I  exclaimed,  look- 
ing at  her  with  admiration. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  125 

It  is  certainly  rare  to  meet  absolutely  beautiful 
women,  but  my  cousin's  beauty  was  so  manifest  as 
not  to  admit  of  a  question.  She  was  not  always 
pleasing,  her  face  being  haughty  and  sometimes  a 
little  hard,  but  those  who  admired  her  least  were 
obliged  to  say  with  my  uncle, — 

"  She  is  devilish  pretty !  " 

She  had  brown  hair  growing  low  on  her  forehead, 
a  perfectly  pure  Grecian  profile,  a  beautiful  colour, 
dark  eyelashes,  and  well-formed  brows.  Tall,  strong, 
with  a  well-developed  figure,  she  would  have  passed 
for  more  than  eighteen  had  not  her  mouth,  notwith- 
standing a  little  disdainful  curve,  which  threatened 
to  become  too  accentuated  later,  had  signs  of  weak- 
ness, betraying  early  youth.  Her  step  and  her  move- 
ments were  slow  and  a  little  nonchalant,  though  always 
harmonious  and  without  affectation.  A  friend  of 
Monsieur  de  Pavol  had  said  laughingly  one  day  that 
at  twenty-five  she  would  resemble  Juno  line  for  line. 
The  name  clung  to  her. 

I  was  suddenly  seized  with  a  veritable  enthusiasm 
for  my  magnificent  cousin;  and  my  uncle  was  much 
amused  at  my  astonishment. 

"You  have  never  seen  beautiful  women,  then,  my 
niece?  " 

"  I  have  never  seen  anything  at  all,  for  I  was  buried 
alive  in  a  hole." 

"You  should  look  in  the  glass,  Reine;  Monsieur  de 


126  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

Conprat  told  us  the  truth,  that  you  were  very 
pretty." 

"  Paul  de  Conprat  ?  "  I  cried. 

"It  is  a  fact,"  said  my  uncle;  "I  had  forgotten  to 
speak  to  you  of  him.  It  seems  that  he  took  refuge  at 
Buisson  one  stormy  day?" 

"I  remember  him  well,"  I  answered,  blushing. 

"  Is  he  coming  to  breakfast  on  Monday,  Blanche?  " 

"Yes,  Father;  the  commandant  has  written  a  line 
to-day  to  accept  the  invitation.  Who  made  your 
dresses,  Reine?" 

"  Suzon, —  a  counterpart  of  my  aunt  in  bad  taste 
and  stupidity,"  I  answered  viciously. 

"We  will  make  good  the  deficiency  of  your  ward- 
robe to-morrow,  my  niece.  Only  have  a  little  more 
respect  for  the  memory  of  Madame  de  Lavalle.  You 
did  not  love  her;  but  she  is  dead,  and  peace  to  her 
soul.  Come  to  dinner.  Juno  will  show  you  your 
rooms  afterward." 

I  passed  a  part  of  the  night  at  my  window  in  deli- 
cious dreams,  and  in  watching  the  sombre  masses  of 
the  great  trees  about  Pavol,  where  I  was  to  laugh,  to 
weep,  to  amuse  myself,  to  mourn,  and  to  see  my  des- 
tiny accomplished. 

I  was  so  happy  that  night  that  my  cure  was  hardly 
an  appreciable  unit  in  my  recollections. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

"OUT  I  beg  that  no  one  will  believe  me  trifling 
•*-*  and  inconstant,  for  this  forgetfulness  was  only 
momentary ;  and  three  days  after  my  arrival  at  Pavol, 
I  wrote  my  cure  the  following  letter:  — 

MY  DEAR  CUR&,  —  I  have  so  many  things  to  say,  so  many 
discoveries  to  tell  you  of,  so  many  confidences  to  make,  that  I 
do  not  know  where  to  begin.  Picture  to  yourself  that  the  sun 
is  brighter  here  than  at  Buisson ;  that  the  trees  are  finer ;  that 
the  flowers  are  fresher ;  that  everything  is  delightful ;  that  an 
uncle  is  one  of  Nature's  happy  inventions ;  and  that  my  cousin 
is  beautiful  as  a  fairy.  Though  you  should  lecture  me,  scold 
me,  and  remonstrate  well  with  me,  my  dear  cure",  you  could  not 
change  my  opinion  that  if  Francis  I.  loved  women  as  beauti- 
ful as  Blanche  de  Pavol  he  had  a  singularly  sound  judgment. 
You  yourself,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  even  you,  would  fall  in  love 
with  her  at  sight.  But  I  confess  that  her  queenly  manner  in- 
timidates me  a  little,  —  me,  whom  nothing  intimidates.  And 


128  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

then  she  is  so  tall ;  and  I  could  have  wished  that  she  were 
small,  it  would  have  consoled  me  a  little,  although  I  know 
now  that  my  figure,  even  if  small,  is  lithe,  elegant,  and  per- 
fectly proportioned.  All  the  same,  a  few  inches  more  in 
height,  what  difference  could  it  have  made,  I  ask  you,  to  the 
Iwn  Dieu  ?  Confess,  Monsieur  le  Cure",  that  the  bon  Dieu  is 
sometimes  very  contrary. 

1  will  not  speak  of  my  uncle,  for  I  know  that  you  know 
him ;  but  I  see  already  that  I  shall  love  him,  and  that  I  have 
made  a  conquest  of  him.  It  is  a  great  pleasure  to  have  a 
good  figure,  my  dear  cure",  very  much  greater  than  you  would 
like  to  admit ;  every  one  admires  it,  and  when  I  am  a  grand- 
mother, I  will  tell  my  grandchildren  that  it  was  the  first  and 
most  delightful  discovery  which  I  made  when  I  went  into  the 
world.  But  there  is  plenty  of  time  to  think  of  that. 

Although  I  go  from  surprise  to  surprise,  I  am  already  per- 
fectly accustomed  to  Pavol  and  the  luxury  which  surrounds 
me.  Nevertheless,  I  should  sometimes  utter  exclamations  of 
astonishment  if  I  were  not  afraid  of  appearing  ridiculous ;  I 
conceal  my  impressions,  but  to  you,  my  dear  cure,  I  can  con- 
fess that  I  am  often  greatly  amazed. 

We  went  to  V day  before  yesterday  to  buy  me  an 

outfit,  Suzon's  productions  being  decided  horrors.  Don't  de- 
lude yourself,  my  poor  cure"  ;  notwithstanding  your  admiration 
for  certain  gowns,  I  came  here  dressed  like  a  fright,  a  perfect 
fright. 

Ah,  what  a  pleasant  thing  a  town  is  !  I  was  delighted, 
was  wonder-struck,  at  the  streets,  the  shops,  the  houses,  the 
churches ;  and  Blanche  was  much  amused  at  me,  for  she  calls 

V a  hole  on  a  hill.  What  would  one  call  Buisson,  then? 

After  a  three  hours'  interview  with  the  dressmaker  and  milli- 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  129 

ner,  my  cousin,  who  is  very  devout,  went  to  confession,  and 
left  me  to  make  some  purchases  with  the  maid.  My  uncle 
had  given  me  some  money  to  purchase  what  was  useful  and 
practical;  but  do  you  believe  that  I  cannot  decide  what  is 
useful  and  practical?  I  began  by  going  to  a  cake-shop,  and 
stuffing  myself  with  little  cakes ;  I  humbly  acknowledge,  my 
dear  cure,  that  I  have  a  passion  for  little  cakes.  While  I 
gave  myself  up  to  this  occupation,  as  necessary  as  agreeable, 
you  will  admit,  —  for  after  all  it  is  an  important  duty  to  nourish 
this  body  of  clay,  —  I  noticed  many  very  pretty  things  in  a  shop 
facing  that  of  the  confectioner.  I  went  at  once  and  bought 
forty-two  little  terra-cotta  men,  —  all  they  had  in  the  place. 
After  that  I  not  only  had  no  money  left,  but  I  was  deeply  in 
debt,  though  that  troubled  me  little,  for  I  am  rich.  My 
cousin  laughed  a  great  deal,  but  my  uncle  scolded  me.  He 
wished  me  to  understand  that  common-sense  ought  to  guide 
every  one,  great  or  small,  that  it  is  useful  at  every  age,  and 
that  without  it  one  does  foolish  things ;  for  example,  one 
buys  forty-two  little  terra-cotta  men  instead  of  supplying  one's 
self  with  stockings  and  chemises.  I  heard  this  discourse  with 
a  contrite  and  humble  air,  my  dear  cur£ ;  but  at  its  end,  which 
was,  on  my  word,  very  fine,  my  rebellious  fancy  pictured  com- 
mon-sense as  having  an  ill-favoured  body,  a  long,  almost 
Roman  nose,  a  face  withered  and  sharp,  and  this  individual 
resembled  my  aunt  so  much  that,  on  the  spot,  I  took  a  dislike 
to  common-sense.  Such  was  the  result  of  my  uncle's  elo- 
quence. Meantime  I  have  forty-two  little  men  weeping,  smil- 
ing, grimacing,  scattered  about  my  room,  and  I  am  happy. 

Last  night  I  talked  with  Blanche  about  love,  Monsieur  le 
Cure.     Why   did   you  say  to  me  that  it  was  found  only  in 

books,  and  that  it  did  not  concern  young  girls  ?     Ah,  my  cur£, 

9 


130  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

my  cure"  !  I  am  afraid  that  you  very  often  deceived  me. 
We  shall  go  into  society  when  the  first  weeks  of  mourning 
have  passed.  My  uncle  thinks  me  very  young,  but  I  cannot 
stay  at  Pavol  alone.  If  it  were  in  question,  you  understand, 
Monsieur  le  Cure",  that  there  would  be  only  one  thing  to  do, 
either  to  throw  myself  out  of  the  window,  or  to  set  the  house 
on  fire. 

It  appears  that  I  have  good  reason  to  expect  a  great  suc- 
cess, because  I  am  both  pretty  and  the  owner  of  a  big  dot. 
Blanche  has  informed  me  that  a  pretty  face  without  a  dot  has 
little  value,  but  that  the  two  things  combined  make  a  perfect 
whole  and  a  rare  morsel.  I  am,  then,  my  dear  cure",  a  savoury 
mouthful,  delicate  and  succulent,  which  will  be  envied,  sought 
after,  and  swallowed  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  if  I  am  willing 
to  permit  it.  I  shall  not  permit  it,  rest  easy,  at  least  until  — 
But,  chut! 

And  now,  Monsieur  le  Cure",  I  am  awaiting  Monday  with 
impatience,  only  I  will  not  tell  you  why.  On  that  day  an 
event  is  to  take  place  which  makes  my  heart  beat,  —  an  event 
which  makes  me  want  to  pirouette  until  I  am  out  of  breath, 
to  throw  my  hat  in  the  air,  to  dance,  and  to  commit  some 
folly.  Dieu .'  what  a  beautiful  thing  life  is  ! 

But  nothing  is  perfect,  because  you  are  not  here,  and  I 
miss  you  very  much.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much,  my  poor 
cure*.  I  should  so  love  to  make  you  admire  the  chateau  and 
the  well-kept  gardens,  so  little  like  those  at  Buisson.  I  should 
so  love  to  have  you  enjoy  the  generous  and  comfortable  life 
which  is  led  here.  The  smallest  thing  is  arranged  down  to  its 
minutest  detail ;  and  I  really  believe  myself  in  a  terrestrial  par- 
adise. Every  moment  I  have  some  new  cause  for  pleasure  and 
admiration,  and  every  moment  1  wish  to  share  it  with  you.  I 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  131 

want  you,  I  call  you ;  but  the  echoes  of  this  beautiful  park  are 
silent. 

Farewell,  my  dear,  good  cur£ ;  I  do  not  embrace  you,  be- 
cause one  does  not  embrace  a  cure  (I  wonder  why,  for  in- 
stance), but  I  send  you  all  my  heart  holds  for  you,  and  it  is 
full  of  affection.  I  adore  you,  Monsieur  le  Cure. 

REINE. 

It  is  a  fact  that  I  accustomed  myself  at  once  to 
the  atmosphere  of  luxury  and  elegance  into  which  I 
had  been  suddenly  transplanted.  It  is  equally  certain 
that  although  Blanche  was  very  friendly  with  me,  and 
had  decided  that  we  should  be  on  intimate  terms, 
she  overawed  me  during  the  first  days  that  followed  my 
arrival  at  Pavol.  Her  goddess-like  carriage,  her  slight 
air  of  haughtiness,  and  the  idea  that  she  had  had  much 
more  experience  than  I, —  all  this  overpowered  me  and 
prevented  my  being  very  unreserved  with  her.  But 
that  impression  lasted  only  as  long  as  an  icicle  under 
an  April  sun ;  and  after  a  conversation  which  we  had 
Sunday  morning  in  my  room,  the  prestige  with  which 
I  had  endowed  her  disappeared  entirely. 

I  was  still  in  bed,  half  asleep  and  coddling  myself 
deliciously,  opening  an  eye  from  time  to  time  to 
survey  with  delight  my  bright  and  comfortable  room, 
my  little  terra-cotta  men,  and  the  trees  which  I  could 
see  through  the  open  window.  Blanche  came  in,  in 
a  long  wrapper,  her  hair  on  her  shoulders,  and  an 
anxious  look  on  her  face. 


132  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"  As  beautiful  as  the  most  beautiful  of  Walter  Scott's 
heroines,"  I  said,  watching  her  with  admiration. 

"Petite  Reine,"  she  said,  seating  herself  on  the  foot 
of  my  bed,  "  I  have  come  to  talk  with  you." 

"  So  much  the  better.  But  I  am  not  entirely  awake, 
and  my  ideas  are  befogged." 

"Even  if  it  is  about  marriage?"  asked  Blanche, 
who  knew  already  my  opinion  on  this  important 
subject. 

"  Marriage !  I  am  very  wide  awake ! "  I  said,  rais- 
ing myself  up  suddenly. 

"  Do  you  want  to  be  married,  Reine  ?  " 

"Do  I  want  to  be  married!  What  a  question!  I 
do  indeed,  and  as  soon  as  possible.  I  adore  men;  I 
love  them  much  more  than  women,  except  when  the 
women  are  as  beautiful  as  you." 

"One  should  not  say  that  one  adores  men,"  said 
Blanche,  severely. 

"Why  not?" 

"I  do  not  know  exactly  why;  but  I  assure  you  that 
it  is  not  proper  for  a  young  girl. " 

"  So  much  the  worse.  Besides,  I  think  it  is !  "  I 
answered,  snuggling  down  under  the  covers. 

"Child!"  exclaimed  Blanche,  looking  at  me  with  a 
sort  of  pity  which  was  rather  offensive.  "  I  have 
come  to  talk  to  you  about  my  father,  Reine." 

"What  about  him?" 

"  Listen.     I  am  like  you  in  wanting  to  marry  some 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  133 

day  or  other;  my  father  has  already  refused  many 
good  offers,  but  that  is  all  the  same  to  me,  because 
I  am  in  no  hurry.  I  am  willing  to  wait  until  I  am 
twenty;  but  I  should  like  to  know  if  he  is  going  to 
object  always  to  my  marriage." 

"You  must  ask  him." 

"Ah,  that  is  the  difficulty,"  answered  Blanche,  a 
little  embarrassed.  "  I  confess  that  I  am  afraid  of 
my  father,  or  rather  that  he  overawes  me." 

Filled  with  surprise,  I  raised  myself  on  my  elbow, 
and  pushed  back  the  hair  which  fell  over  my  face  to 
see  my  cousin  better.  In  that  moment  she  fell  from 
the  clouds  of  Olympus,  on  which  I  had  placed  her; 
and  under  the  beautiful  figure  of  Juno,  I  discovered 
a  young  girl,  who  no  longer  intimidated  me. 

"No  one  overawes  me,"  I  cried,  seizing  my  pillow 
and  sending  it  flying  into  the  middle  of  the  room. 

Blanche  looked  at  me  in  astonishment. 

"  What  are  you  doing,  Reine  ? " 

"  Oh,  it  is  a  habit  of  mine.  When  I  was  at  Buisson, 
I  always  threw  my  pillow,  no  matter  where,  to  pro- 
voke Suzon,  whom  it  always  put  in  a  passion." 

"As  Suzon  is  not  here,  I  advise  you  to  give  up 
the  habit.  But  to  return  to  what  we  were  saying,  do 
you  think  you  have  the  courage  to  have  an  argument 
with  my  father  on  the  subject  of  marriage,  which  he 
is  always  abusing?" 

"Yes,  yes;  I   am  very  strong  on  arguing,  you  will 


134  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

see.  I  will  attack  my  uncle  to-night,  and  will  manage 
things  easily." 

During  dinner  I  addressed  an  expressive  pantomime 
to  my  cousin,  to  let  her  know  that  I  was  going  to 
enter  the  lists.  My  uncle,  who  scented  some  clanger, 
watched  under  his  shaggy  eyebrows;  and  Blanche, 
already  disconcerted,  urged  me  by  a  sign  to  be  quiet. 
But  I  snapped  my  fingers,  coughed  loudly,  and  leaped 
boldly  into  the  arena. 

"Uncle,  can  persons  have  children  without  being 
married? " 

"No,  certainly  not!"  answered  my  uncle,  whom  my 
question  seemed  to  amuse  greatly. 

"Would  it  be  a  misfortune  if  humanity  were  to 
disappear? " 

"  Hum  !  That  is  a  grave  question.  Philanthropists 
would  say  yes,  and  misanthropes,  no." 

"  But  your  opinion,  Uncle  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  given  the  matter  consideration.  Never- 
theless, as  Providence  has  done  all  things  well,  I  vote 
for  the  perpetuation  of  the  human  race." 

"Then,  Uncle,  you  are  not  consistent  when  you 
abuse  marriage." 

"  Ah,  ha ! "  said  my  uncle. 

"  Since  one  cannot  have  children  unless  married, 
and  you  vote  for  the  perpetuation  of  the  human  race, 
it  follows  that  you  ought  to  approve  of  marriage  for 
every  one." 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  135 

"  Ventre  Saint-Gris!"  exclaimed  Monsieur  de  Pa- 
vol,  working  his  lip  with  so  satirical  an  air  that 
Blanche  became  red;  "this  is  what  it  is  to  argue. 
What  is  marriage,  then,  in  your  opinion,  my  niece?" 

"  Marriage,  "  I  said  enthusiastically,  "  is  the  most 
beautiful  of  all  the  institutions  in  the  world, —  a  life- 
long union  with  him  whom  one  loves!  They  sing  and 
dance  together;  he  kisses  her  hand.  It  is  charming! " 

"  He  kisses  her  hand !     Why  the  hand,  my  niece?  " 

"Because  it  is  —  oh,  that  is  an  idea  of  mine,"  I 
said,  addressing  a  smile  full  of  mystery  to  my  past. 

"  Marriage  is  an  institution  which  delivers  a  victim 
to  the  executioner,"  growled  my  uncle. 

"Ah!" 

Juno  and  I  protested  with  all  our  might. 

"Who  is  the  victim,  Father?" 

"The  man,  parbleu!" 

"So  much  the  worse  for  the  men,"  I  answered  in 
a  decided  tone;  "let  them  defend  themselves.  As 
for  me,  I  am  ready  to  transform  myself  into  an 
executioner." 

"'What  are  you  trying  to  get  at  now,  young  ladies  ? " 

"At  this,  Uncle:  Blanche  and  I  are  strong  advo- 
cates of  marriage,  and  we  have  resolved  to  put  our 
theories  into  practice.  I  wish  it  to  be  as  soon  as 
possible." 

"Reine!"  cried  my  cousin,  stunned  at  my  audacity. 

"I  have  spoken  the  truth,   Blanche;   only   you   are 


136  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

willing  to  wait,  while  as  for  me,  I  have  not  the 
patience." 

"Indeed,  my  niece!  I  suppose,  however,  that  you 
are  not  in  love  ? " 

"Naturally,"  said  Blanche,  laughing;  "she  does 
not  know  a  soul." 

Since  my  arrival  at  Pavol  I  had  often  thought  of 
my  love  and  of  Monsieur  de  Conprat;  and  I  often 
asked  myself  if  I  ought  not  to  tell  my  cousin  this 
inmost  secret  of  my  heart.  But  all  things  consid- 
ered, I  decided  in  this  case  to  break  all  my  princi- 
ples and  to  join  the  Arab  in  finding  with  him  that 
silence  is  golden.  Nevertheless,  at  this  assertion 
by  Blanche,  and  notwithstanding  my  fixed  resolution 
to  keep  my  secret,  I  was  on  the  point  of  letting  it 
out;  but  I  managed  to  overcome  the  temptation  to 
speak. 

"  In  any  case,  I  shall  be  in  love  some  day  or  other, 
for  one  cannot  live  without  loving." 

"  Indeed !     Where  have  you  got  your  ideas,  Reine  ? " 

"But,  Uncle,  that  is  life,"  I  answered  composedly. 
"Just  consider  Walter  Scott's  heroines  a  moment, — 
how  they  love  and  are  loved." 

"Ah,  did  the  cure  permit  you  to  read  romances 
and  give  you  a  course  on  love  ? " 

"My  poor  cure!  How  I  provoked  him  about  that 
very  thing !  As  to  romances,  Uncle,  he  did  not  wish 
me  to  have  them ;  he  even  carried  off  the  key  of  the 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  139 

library,  but  I  got  in  through  the  window  by  breaking 
a  pane. " 

"Here  is  a  promising  child!  As  a  consequence, 
you  are  in  haste  to  day-dream  and  moon  about  love." 

"I  do  not  moon  at  all,  Uncle, — above  all,  on  that 
subject,  for  I  know  perfectly  well  what  I  am  talking 
about." 

" Diable!"  said  my  uncle,  laughing,  "and  yet  you 
say  that  you  are  not  in  love  with  any  one." 

"It  is  true,"  I  answered  quickly,  confused  enough 
at  my  blunder.  "But  do  you  not  think,  Uncle,  that 
reflection  can  supply  the  lack  of  experience?" 

"  Most  assuredly !  I  am  convinced  of  it,  especially 
on  such  a  subject.  And  then  you  seem  to  me  to  have 
a  very  well-ordered  mind." 

"  I  am  only  logical,  Uncle.  Tell  me,  does  one  ever 
love  any  man  but  one's  husband?  " 

"No,  never!"  answered  Monsieur de  Pavol,  smiling. 

"Very  well;  since  one  loves  no  man  but  one's  hus- 
band, and  one  naturally  always  loves  one's  husband 
dearly,  and  one  is  not  able  to  live  without  love,  I  con- 
clude that  it  is  necessary  to  marry." 

"Yes;  but  not  before  twenty-one,  young  ladies." 

"It  is  all  the  same  to  me,"  said  Blanche. 

"  But  it  is  not  all  the  same  to  me ;  I  can  never  wait 
five  years ! " 

"You  will  have  to  wait  five  years,  Reine;  at  least, 
unless  in  some  extraordinary  case." 


140  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"What  do  you  call  an  extraordinary  case,  Uncle?  " 

"  A  match  so  suitable  in  every  respect  that  it  would 
be  absurd  to  refuse  it." 

This  modification  of  my  uncle's  programme  was  so 
delightful  to  me  that  I  jumped  up  to  pirouette. 

"Then  I  am  sure  of  my  case,"  I  cried,  taking  to 
my  heels. 

I  took  refuge  in  my  room,  where  Juno  soon  ap- 
peared, with  a  majestic  air. 

"  How  brazen  you  are,  Reine !  " 

"Brazen!  Is  that  the  way  you  thank  me  when  I 
did  what  you  wanted  me  to?" 

"  Yes ;  but  you  say  things  so  point  blank. " 

"It  is  my  way;  I  like  things  on  the  square." 

"Then  it  seemed  as  if  you  wanted  to  vex  my 
father." 

"  I  should  be  sorry  indeed  to  vex  him.  He  charms 
me  with  his  satirical  face,  and  I  already  love  him 
dearly.  But  to  keep  to  the  subject,  Blanche,  it  was 
he  who  provoked  us,  by  declaiming  against  marriage, 
and,  after  all,  you  know  what  you  wanted  to  know." 

"Certainly,"  answered  Blanche,  in  a  dreamy  way. 

Monsieur  de  Pavol  learned  very  soon,  to  his  cost, 
that  if  women  were  not  worth  a  rap,  young  girls  were 
worth  no  more,  and  trampled  under  foot  without  win- 
cing the  views  of  a  father  and  an  uncle. 


CHAPTER   X. 


1\  /T  ONDAY  morning  I  got  up  feeling  very  happy. 
•*•»•*•  I  dreamed  of  Paul  de  Conprat  in  the  night, 
and  I  woke  uttering  a  cry  of  joy. 

The  pleasure  of  putting  on  for  the  first  time  a  gown 
such  as  I  had  never  owned  added  still  more  to  my 
cheerfulness ;  and  when  I  was  dressed,  I  looked  at  my- 
self for  a  long  time  in  silent  admiration.  Then  I  set 
myself  to  whirling  around  in  an  access  of  exuberant 
joy,  and  nearly  overturned  my  uncle  in  the  hall. 

"Where  are  you  running  to  in  this  fashion,  my 
niece? " 

"  Into  the  bedrooms,  Uncle,  to  survey  myself  in 
all  the  mirrors.  See  how  well  I  look ! " 


142  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"Not  badly,  it's  a  fact." 

"  Is  not  my  figure  pretty  in  a  well-made  dress?  " 

"Charming,"  answered  Monsieur  de  Pavol,  who 
seemed  enchanted  at  my  delight,  and  who  kissed  me 
on  both  cheeks. 

"  Ah,  Uncle,  how  happy  I  am !  It  is  my  opinion, 
as  Perrine  would  say,  that  the  '  extraordinary  case  ' 
will  soon  present  itself." 

Upon  that  I  disappeared  and  precipitated  myself 
like  a  water-spout  into  Juno's  room. 

"  Look ! "  I  cried,  spinning  around  so  rapidly  that 
my  cousin  could  see  only  a  whirlwind. 

"Be  quiet  a  moment,  Reine,"  she  said,  with  her 
usual  calm.  "When  will  you  give  up  your  whirl- 
ings? Yes;  the  dress  is  very  nice." 

"  Look  what  a  little  foot,"  I  said,  pushing  it  forward. 

"You  inborn  coquette!"  cried  Blanche,  laughing. 
"Who  would  have  thought  that  such  a  little  savage 
as  you  could  have  already  reached  such  a  degree 
of  coquetry  ? " 

"You  will  see  more  still,"  I  answered  seriously. 
"I  know,  you  see,  that  coquetry  is  an  accomplish- 
ment, a  real  accomplishment." 

"  It  is  the  first  time  that  I  have  heard  it.  Who 
told  you?  Not  your  cure,  I  suppose." 

"No,  no;  but  some  one  who  knew  perfectly.  Is 
any  one  beside  the  De  Conprats  coming  to  breakfast, 
Blanche?" 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  143 

"  Yes;  the  cure  and  two  of  my  father's  friends." 

We  installed  ourselves  in  the  salon  to  await  our 
guests;  and  soon  my  uncle  arrived  with  the  Com- 
mandant de  Conprat,  to  whom  he  presented  me. 

Mon  Dien!  what  a  handsome  face  the  commandant's 
was !  He  had  eyes  as  limpid  as  those  of  a  child,  with 
mustache  and  hair  as  white  as  snow,  and  an  expres- 
sion so  good,  so  kindly,  that  he  recalled  my  cure, 
though  there  was  not  any  real  resemblance  between 
them.  I  felt  myself  drawn  to  him  at  once,  and  I  saw 
that  the  attraction  was  mutual. 

"A  little  relative  of  whom  I  have  heard,"  he  said, 
taking  my  hands.  "Let  me  kiss  you,  my  child.  I 
was  a  friend  of  your  father." 

I  allowed  myself  to  be  embraced  with  a  good  grace, 
not  without  saying  inwardly  that  I  should  much  prefer 
to  have  his  son  relieve  him  in  this  delicate  operation. 

At  last  he  came;  and  I  would  have  willingly 
given  my  entire  dot,  and  my  pretty  dress  to  boot, 
for  the  right  to  run  to  him  and  embrace  him  with 
open  arms. 

He  shook  hands  with  my  cousin,  and  saluted  me 
so  ceremoniously  that  I  stood  still,  quite  confused. 

"Give  me  your  hand,"  I  said;  "you  know  perfectly 
well  that  we  are  acquainted." 

"  I  was  awaiting  your  good  pleasure,  Mademoiselle." 

"What  stupidity!" 

"There,  there,  Reine!"  said  my  uncle,  reprovingly. 


144  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"  A  bit  of  a  wild-flower,"  said  the  commandant,  look- 
ing at  me  in  a  friendly  way,  "  but  a  lovely  flower,  truly. " 

These  words  did  not  succeed  in  dispelling  the  irri- 
tation which  I  felt  without  knowing  exactly  why, 
and  I  remained  silent  for  some  time  in  my  corner, 
watching  Monsieur  de  Conprat,  who  talked  gayly  with 
Blanche.  Ah,  how  charming  he  seemed,  and  how 
my  heart  beat  when  I  saw  again  his  pleasant  smile, 
his  white  teeth,  and  the  honest  eyes  of  which  I  had 
so  often  dreamed  in  my  horrid  old  home!  And  my 
aunt,  my  cur6,  Suzon,  the  wet  garden,  and  the  cherry- 
tree  in  which  he  had  climbed  passed  across  my  mem- 
ory like  flying  shadows. 

Soon  I  joined  in  the  conversation,  and  had  recov- 
ered part  of  my  good-humour  when  we  went  into  the 
dining-room. 

Seated  between  the  cure  and  Monsieur  de  Con- 
prat,  I  attacked  the  latter  at  once. 

"Why  did  you  not  come  back  to  Buisson?  "  I  said 
to  him. 

"  I  was  not  the  master  of  my  own  movements,  my 
cousin." 

"  You  regretted  it,  at  least  ?  " 

"Very  greatly,  I  assure  you." 

"Why,  then,  did  you  not  shake  hands  with  me 
when  you  came?  " 

"But  etiquette  required  that  you  should  make  the 
first  advance,  Mademoiselle." 


My  Uncle  and  My  Cure.  145 

"  Ah,  etiquette !    You  did  not  think  of  it  over  there. " 

"No;  we  met  under  peculiar  circumstances,  and 
were  out  of  the  world,  that  is  certain,"  he  answered, 
smiling. 

"Does  the  world  hinder  one  from  being  friendly?  " 

"No,  not  exactly;  but  the  proprieties  often  repress 
an  outburst  of  friendship." 

"It  is  very  silly!"  I  said  shortly. 

But  1  was  well  enough  satisfied  with  the  explanation 
to  recover  all  my  spirits.  Nevertheless,  in  talking 
with  him,  I  perceived  that  he  did  not  attach  the  same 
importance  as  I  to  what  he  had  said  to  me  at  Bins- 
son.  But  I  was  so  happy  to  see  him,  and  to  speak 
with  him,  that  at  the  moment  this  little  misgiving 
passed  through  my  mind  without  impairing  its  con- 
fidence. 

"  Monsieur  de  Conprat  says  that  there  will  be  a 
number  of  balls  in  the  month  of  October." 

"I  am  delighted,"  answered  Juno. 

"You  will  teach  me  how  to  dance?  "  I  said,  dancing 
already  on  my  chair. 

"I  demand  the  office  of  instructor !"  cried  Paul  de 
Conprat. 

"Paul  is  an  accomplished  dancer,"  said  the  com- 
mandant; "all  the  ladies  like  to  waltz  with  him." 

"  And,  besides,  he  is  charming,"  I  added  with  unction. 

The  commandant  and  his  son  laughed;  the  cure  and 
my  uncle's  two  friends  looked  at  me  smilingly,  nod- 


146  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

ding  their  heads  paternally.  But  Monsieur  de  Pavel's 
face  assumed  a  displeased  expression ;  and  my  cousin 
raised  her  eyebrows,  —  an  action  peculiar  to  her  when 
something  displeased  her,  and  an  action  so  full  of 
disdain  that  I  had  the  painful  impression  of  having 
said  something  silly. 

After  dinner  we  walked  in  the  wood.  I  had 
recovered  my  cheerfulness,  and  talked  without  stop- 
ping, amusing  myself  with  imitating  the  look  and 
accent  of  one  of  our  guests  whose  absurdities  struck 
me. 

"  Reine,  how  badly  you  have  been  brought  up !  " 
said  Blanche. 

"He  speaks  this  way,"  I  answered,  pinching  my 
nose  to  imitate  my  victim's  voice. 

Monsieur  de  Conprat  laughed ;  but  Juno  wrapped 
herseli  in  an  imposing  dignity  which  did  not  trouble 
me  the  least  in  the  world. 

There  was  a  moment  when  I  was  beside  him,  while 
my  cousin  walked  on  before  with  a  nonchalant  air.  I 
noticed  that  he  watched  her  closely. 

" How  beautiful  she  is,  isn't  she?"  I  said  to  him 
in  the  innocence  of  my  heart. 

"Lovely,  perfectly  lovely!"  he  answered  in  a 
suppressed  voice  which  made  me  start. 

A  doubt  and  a  presentiment  crossed  my  mind ;  but 
at  sixteen  impressions  of  this  kind  take  flight  and 
disappear  like  the  butterflies  which  flutter  about  us, 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  147 

and  I  was  in  a  state  of  foolish  gayety  until  our 
guests  said  farewell  to  Monsieur  de  Pavol. 

When  they  had  gone,  my  uncle  retired  to  his 
study,  and  sent  for  me. 

"  Reine,  you  have  been  ridiculous. " 

"  How,  pray,  Uncle  ?  " 

"One  does  not  say  to  a  young  man  that  he  is 
charming,  my  niece." 

"But  it  was  because  I  found  him  so,  Uncle." 

"  All  the  more  reason  not  to  say  it. " 

"  What !  "  I  exclaimed,  nonplussed.  "  Then  ought  I 
to  say  that  I  found  him  the  reverse  of  charming?" 

"  You  ought  not  to  touch  on  the  subject.  Have  what 
opinions  you  please,  but  keep  them  to  yourself." 

"But  it  is  very  natural  to  say  what  one  thinks, 
Uncle." 

"  Not  in  the  world,  my  niece.  Half  of  the  time  it 
is  necessary  to  say  what  you  do  not  think,  and  to 
conceal  what  you  do." 

"What  a  frightful  principle!"  I  exclaimed  in  hor- 
ror. "I  shall  never  be  able  to  put  it  in  practice." 

"  You  will  learn  to ;  but  in  the  mean  time  observe 
the  rules  of  etiquette." 

"  That  everlasting  etiquette !  "  I  exclaimed,  going 
out  of  the  room  in  a  bad  humour. 

That  night  in  dreaming  at  my  window,  as  I  had 
taken  up  the  custom  of  doing,  my  musings  were 
troubled  by  an  indefinite  disquiet  which  I  could  not 


148  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

well  define.  I  thought  over  the  day,  awaited  with 
such  impatience;  and  I  could  not  conceal  from  myself 
that  things  had  not  gone  as  I  had  wished.  What 
had  I  expected?  I  did  not  know;  but  I  talked  to 
myself  a  long  time  to  convince  myself  that  Monsieur 
de  Conprat  was  in  love  with  me,  and  my  peroration 
was  followed  by  a  feeling  of  foreboding. 

Nevertheless,  the  next  day  my  uneasiness  had  dis- 
appeared ;  but  in  the  afternoon  I  received  a  long  letter 
from  my  cure, —  a  letter  filled  with  good  advice,  and 
ending  thus:  — 

s. 

"  Petite  Reine,  your  letter  has  come  to  console  and  delight 
me  in  my  solitude.  Do  not  fail  to  write  me,  I  pray  you. 
I  do  not  know  how  to  get  on  without  you,  and  I  do  not  dare 
to  go  to  Buisson,  for  fear  of  weeping  like  a  child.  I  reproach 
myself  for  my  selfishness,  for  you  are  happy ;  but,  as  says  the 
Scripture,  the  flesh  is  weak,  and  uxy  freslytirc,  my  duties,  and 
my  prayers  have  not  been  able  to  comfort  me. 

"  Farewell,  dear,  good  little  child ;  my  last  word  to  you 
shall  be,  —  Distrust  your  imagination." 

And  this  sentence  produced  a  disagreeable  impression 
on  my  already  depressed  spirits. 


CHAPTER    XI. 


T  HAD  been  installed  for  three  weeks  at  Pavol; 
*-  and  my  uncle  asserted  that  I  was  so  improved 
in  appearance  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  the 
cure  to  recognize  me  if  he  met  me.  He  compared 
me  to  a  perennial  plant  which  grows  well  in  a  thank- 
less soil,  because  it  comes  of  good  stock,  but  whose 
beauty  develops  all  at  once  and  incredibly  when  it 
is  transplanted  to  a  congenial  earth. 

When  I  looked  into  the  glass,  I  had  proof  that  my 
brown  eyes  had  a  new  brilliancy,  that  my  lips  were 
ruddier,  and  that  my  dark  skin  was  acquiring  rosy 
and  delicate  tones  which  awoke  in  me  a  lively 
satisfaction. 

Nevertheless,  a  few  days  after  the  breakfast  of 
which  I  have  spoken,  I  discovered,  without  a  shadow 
of  doubt,  that  in  my  great  simplicity  I  was  thor- 
oughly deceived  in  believing  that  Monsieur  de  Conprat 


150  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

was  in  love  with  me.  But  I  had  never  been  a  pessi- 
mist, and  I  called  in  my  logic  to  console  me.  I  said 
to  myself  that  of  necessity  all  hearts  could  not  be 
constructed  alike;  that  some  yield  instantly,  while 
others  must  ponder  and  consider  well  before  taking 
fire ;  that  if  Monsieur  de  Conprat  did  not  love  me,  he 
would  some  day  or  other,  because  it  was  clear  that 
there  was  an  actual  resemblance  between  our  respec- 
tive tastes  and  characters.  So  that  although  the 
deception  had  been  a  great  one,  my  peace  of  mind 
for  many  days  was  not  seriously  affected.  And  I  ex- 
panded in  this  spot  so  congenial  to  my  tastes;  I 
basked  in  my  happiness  like  a  lizard  in  the  sun. 

My  cousin  was  very  musical.  The  commandant, 
who  was  devoted  to  music,  came  to  Pavol  often  dur- 
ing the  week,  and  his  son  regularly  came  with  him. 
The  door  was  always  open  to  him,  because  of  his 
youthful  intimacy  with  Blanche,  and  the  ties  of  kin- 
ship which  united  the  two  families.  Furthermore, 
my  uncle  saw  this  intimacy  with  pleasure,  because, 
with  the  approval  of  the  commandant,  and  notwith- 
standing his  diatribes  on  marriage,  he  wished  very 
much  to  marry  his  daughter  to  Monsieur  de  Conprat, 
finding,  with  sufficiently  good  reason,  that  he  repre- 
sented an  "extraordinary  case." 

I  learned  of  this  project  later  on,  at  the  same  time 
with  other  facts  which  I  should  have  discovered  easily 
if  I  had  had  more  experience. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  151 

The  gentlemen  usually  came  to  breakfast.  Paul, 
endowed  with  the  appetite  you  know  of,  ate  heartily, 
and  took  a  bite  at  three  o'clock.  After  that,  if  we 
were  alone,  Blanche  gave  me  a  dancing  lesson  while 
he  played  with  animation  a  waltz  of  her  composition. 
Sometimes  he  was  the  teacher;  my  cousin  took  her 
place  at  the  piano;  the  commandant  and  my  uncle 
watched  us  with  a  jovial  air;  and  1  spun  around  in 
the  arms  of  Monsieur  de  Conprat  with  a  joy  unspeak- 
able. Ah,  what  happy  days! 

We  made  no  plan  without  his  sharing  it.  His 
contagious  cheerfulness,  his  considerate  disposition, 
and  the  genius  for  organization  and  droll  invention 
which  he  possessed  in  the  highest  degree,  made  him 
a  charming  companion,  brightened  our  existence,  and 
increased  my  love.  Adroit,  ingenious,  and  obliging, 
he  was  good  for  everything,  and  knew  how  to  do 
everything.  If  we  broke  a  watch  or  a  bracelet,  or 
no  matter  what,  we  would  say,  Blanche  and  I,  "  If 
Paul  comes  to-day,  he  will  mend  it." 

He  painted  a  good  deal,  and  often  brought  us  his 
productions.  It  is  the  only  point  on  which  I  could 
never  agree  with  him.  I  had  an  inveterate  antipathy 
for  the  arts;  but,  above  all,  for  music,  because  that 
wretched  etiquette  forbade  me  to  stop  my  ears,  while 
it  is  easy  not  to  look  at  a  picture  or  to  turn  one's 
back  on  it.  Sometimes,  when  Monsieur  de  Conprat 
played  dance  music,  I  listened  willingly  and  for  a  long 


152  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

time;  but  it  was  he  in  the  music  that  I  loved,  and 
not  the  music  itself.  I  note  this  sentiment  in  pass- 
ing, because  one  day  I  analyzed  it,  and  the  analysis 
led  me  to  a  terrible  discovery. 

"Why  paint  the  trees,  Cousin?"  I  would  say. 
"The  ugliest  tree  is  vastly  better  than  these  little 
green  dabs  which  you  put  on  your  canvas." 

"Is  that  the  way  you  understand  art,  young 
cousin? " 

"Do  you  not  think  that  Juno  is  a  thousand  times 
more  beautiful  in  reality  than  in  her  portrait  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed ;  I  know  it !  " 

"And  these  little  blue  flowers  that  you  place  in 
the  trees,  what  are  they?" 

"But  that  is  a  bit  of  sky,  Cousin." 

I  pirouetted,  and  cried  pathetically,  — 

"  O  heavens !  O  trees !  O  Nature !  what  crimes  are 
committed  in  your  names!" 

My  uncle  had  many  friends  at  V ;  he  was  con- 
nected with  nearly  all  the  families  thereabout,  and 
kept  open  house.  It  was  seldom  that  we  did  not 
have  some  guests  to  breakfast  or  to  dine.  It  was 
for  me  a  way  of  making  acquaintance  with  social  cus- 
toms, and  of  acquiring,  as  the  cure  said,  a  mental 
equipoise;  but  I  must  say  that  I  acquired  little  of 
this,  and  that  I  never  reached  the  point  of  dissem- 
bling my  impressions  and  my  thoughts,  which  were 
often  as  ridiculous  as  impertinent. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  155 

My  uncle  and  Juno,  rigid  on  the  subject  of  the 
proprieties,  addressed  me  certain  perfectly  intelligi- 
ble remonstrances,  but  they  might  as  well  have  talked 
to  the  wind.  With  a  persistence  truly  lamentable,  I 
never  lost  an  opportunity  to  commit  a  blunder  or 
make  a  foolish  speech. 

"You  were  very  impolite  to  Madame  A , 

Reine." 

"How,  you  hypocritical  Juno?  I  let  her  see  that 
I  did  not  like  her, — that's  all." 

"It  is  precisely  that  which  is  rude,  my  niece." 

"  She  is  so  ugly,  Uncle !  You  see  I  do  not  feel 
drawn  toward  women.  They  are  so  satirical  and 
spiteful,  and  examine  you  from  head  to  foot  as  if 
you  were  a  strange  animal." 

"  How  can  you  reproach  them  for  being  satirical, 
Reine?  You  spend  your  time  in  noticing  people's 
absurdities,  and  imitating  them." 

"  Yes,  but  I  am  pretty,  and  everything  is  permitted 
me;  Monsieur  C told  me  so  the  other  day." 

"I  do  not  agree  with  his  deduction.  But  do  you 
not  believe  that  men  examine  you  from  head  to 
foot  ? " 

"Yes,  but  it  is  with  admiration;  while  women  look 
for  faults  in  my  figure,  or  invent  them,  if  need  be. 
You  see,  I  have  already  noticed  a  number  of  things." 

"So  it  appears,  my  niece;  but  try  to  notice  that 
good  manners  are  a  real  accomplishment." 


156  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

When  our  guests  were  young  men,  they  devoted 
themselves  to  Blanche  and  me,  and  I  was  much  en- 
tertained; but  when  they  were  old  —  Dicn!  the  poli- 
tics which  always  started  up,  enough  to  make  the 
head  ache.  Ah,  how  they  bored  me,  those  politics! 

The  worthy  men  would  arrive,  greatly  excited  at 
some  misdeeds  of  the  government.  They  would  talk 
with  moderation  until  some  fiery  Bonapartist  would 
cry  that  he  would  like  to  shoot  all  republicans,  to 
strike  them  with  terror.  The  naivett  of  the  expres- 
sion would  cause  a  laugh  and  clear  the  decks  of 
irritation  and  wild  talk.  We  would  throw  ourselves 
head-first  into  politics,  and  dabble  in  them  until  the 
end  of  dinner.  All  agreed  in  abominating  a  repub- 
lic and  republicans;  but  when  each  guest  would  draw 
from  his  pocket  a  little  scheme  of  government  which 
he  had  been  careful  to  bring  with  him,  they  were 
not  long  in  darting  furious  glances  at  one  another, 
and  becoming  red  as  tomatoes. 

The  legitimist  wrapped  himself  in  the  dignity  of 
his  traditions,  his  reverence  for  the  throne,  and  his 
regrets,  and  considered  the  imperialist  a  revolutionist ; 
the  latter  in  his  inmost  soul  considered  the  legitimist 
a  fool,  but  politeness  not  allowing  him  to  express  his 
opinion,  he  would  bawl  the  louder  to  make  up  for 
it.  Then  some  one  would  fall  afresh  upon  the  republi- 
cans, would  pile  up  invectives  on  them,  would  trans- 
port them,  would  shoot  them,  would  decapitate  them, 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  157 

would  pound  them  to  a  jelly;  imperialists  and  legiti- 
mists would  unite  in  a  common  hatred  to  sweep  these 
unhappy  bipeds  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  They 
would  perorate  passionately,  gesticulate,  save  the 
country,  and  grow  purple  in  the  face,  which  did  not, 
alas !  prevent  things  from  going  on  in  their  own 
sweet  way. 

My  uncle,  in  the  midst  of  these  divagations,  would 
throw  out  from  time  to  time  a  witty  remark  or  one 
full  of  good  sense,  and  would  raise  the  discussion 
to  a  more  elevated  plane  than  that  of  personal  inter- 
ests and  individual  sympathies.  In  no  sense  a  legiti- 
mist, and  yet  having  no  fixed  opinions,  he  none  the 
less  thought  that  for  nearly  a  century  France  had 
advanced  with  her  eyes  on  the  ground,  and  that  this 
abnormal  position  would  end  in  making  her  lose  her 
equilibrium  and  fall  into  some  abyss,  where  she 
would  be  buried. 

He  laughed  at  the  tricks  and  the  blunders  of  the 
different  political  parties;  but  he  often  felt  sick  at 
heart,  which  he  showed  by  some  humorous  remark. 
I  have  never  seen  him  angry;  he  preserved  his  tran- 
quillity in  the  midst  of  the  varied  clamours  of  his 
guests,  sure,  for  that  matter,  of  having  the  last  word, 
because  he  saw  clearly  and  far.  Nevertheless  his  an- 
tipathies were  active;  and  he  detested  the  republi- 
cans. Not  that  he  was  too  much  in  earnest  to  be 
impartial;  he  would  have  accepted  a  republic  had  he 


158  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

believed  it  practicable,  and  he  respected  the  honesty 
of  certain  men  who  strove  in  good  faith  for  a  Utopia. 

I  have  sometimes  heard  him  call  our  rulers  racket- 
players,  comparing  the  laws  which  the  two  chambers 
bandy  to  and  fro  daily  to  the  balls,  which  the  French 
people,  gazing  aloft,  watched  devoutly  flying  through 
the  air,  until  they  fell  on  their  respectable  carti- 
lages and  flattened  them  entirely.  From  which  I 
drew,  for  my  own  little  scheme  of  government,  some 
deductions  which  I  will  mention  in  their  time  and 
place. 

Monsieur  de  Pavol  liked  conversation  and  even 
argument.  If  he  spoke  little,  he  listened  with  interest. 
Under  a  rough  exterior  he  had  -a  wide  knowledge,  a 
taste  correct,  elevated,  and  delicate,  great  common- 
sense,  and  a  really  high  point  of  view.  He  was 
neither  a  saint  nor  a  bigot.  Like  the  majority  of 
men,  he  had,  I  suppose,  his  weaknesses  and  his  faults ; 
but  he  believed  in  God,  in  the  soul,  in  virtue,  and 
did  not  in  the  least  consider  unbelief,  cavilling,  and 
the  spirit  of  disparagement  as  evidence  of  manliness 
and  intelligence.  He  loved  to  hear  materialists  and 
free-thinkers  develop  their  theories;  and  his  mouth 
was  expressive  as  he  watched  his  opponent  and  made 
his  heavy  brows  meet  until  they  almost  entirely  hid 
his  eyes.  Then  he  would  answer  slowly  and  very 
quietly,  — 

"Morbleu,    Monsieur,     I   admire    you!     You    have 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  159 

nearly  reached  that  perfect  humility  preached  by  the 
Evangelist.  I  am  overcome  at  not  being  able  to 
follow  in  your  steps;  but  I  have  a  devil  of  a  pride 
•which  always  prevents  my  putting  myself  on  a  level 
with  the  worm  which  crawls  at  my  feet,  or  the  pig 
which  wallows  in  my  pen." 

Always  at  war  with  the  municipal  council  of  his 
commune,  he  did  not  love  the  villagers,  and  declared 
that  no  one  is  more  knavish  and  rascally  than  a  peas- 
ant; so  that  though  he  was  esteemed  and  respected, 
he  was  not  loved.  Nevertheless,  he  gave  largely  in 
charity,  and  offered  his  services  when  there  was  occa- 
sion; but  he  never  allowed  himself  to  be  duped  by 
artifices  and  the  wiles  of  adventurers. 

In  short,  though  my  uncle  had  never  chosen  any 
vocation  in  life,  though  he  had  been  neither  physi- 
cian, lawyer,  engineer,  soldier,  diplomat,  nor  even 
minister,  he  did  his  duty  in  life  in  perpetuating 
sound  traditions,  in  respecting  what  was  worthy  of 
respect,  in  not  allowing  himself  to  be  carried  away 
by  the  "  isms  "  of  the  day,  and  in  using  his  influence 
in  the  direction  of  what  is  good  and  right,  —  in  a 
word,  my  uncle  was  a  man  of  intelligence,  a  man  of 
heart,  a  good  man.  I  loved  him  dearly;  and  if  he 
had  never  talked  politics,  I  should  have  thought  that 
he  had  not  a  fault.  In  his  private  life  he  was  ami- 
able. He  adored  his  daughter,  and  very  soon  gave 
me  a  great  share  of  his  affection. 


160  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"What  frightful  things  governments  are!"  I  said 
to  Monsieur  de  Conprat.  "They  ought  to  be  sup- 
pressed ;  then  we  should  hear  no  more  politics.  Two 
things  to  suppress,  — the  piano  and  politics." 

" Ma  foi!  I  am  rather  of  your  opinion,"  he  an- 
swered, laughing. 

"Ah!  you  do  not  like  the  piano?  But  you  lis- 
ten to  Blanche  rapturously;  at  least,  you  have  that 
appearance." 

"It  is  because  my  Cousin  Blanche  has  a  real  talent." 

This  explanation  gave  me  that  enervating  sensa- 
tion caused  by  mosquitoes  who  sing  about  a  sleeper; 
they  annoy  him  without  entirely  spoiling  his  sleep. 
The  explanation  was  plainly  unplausible,  because  not- 
withstanding Juno's  talent,  I,  who  did  not  like  the 
piano,  had  always  a  desire  to  scream  or  to  run  away 
when  she  played  Mozart's  or  Beethoven's  sonatas. 
They  are  men,  these  two,  who  can  boast  of  having 
bored  humanity!  I  am  heart-broken  when  I  think 
of  their  wives! 

In  the  midst  of  this  peaceful  life,  of  my  hopes  and 
my  little  inquietudes,  which  vanished  before  a  kind 
word,  and  the  distractions  of  a  way  of  living  so  new 
to  me,  we  reached  the  end  of  September.  My  uncle, 
with  the  funereal  face  of  a  man  being  led  to  the 
scaffold,  made  ready  to  escort  us  to  the  balls  an- 
nounced by  Monsieur  de  Conprat. 


CHAPTER   XII. 


I  CAN  answer  for  my  not  having  exercised  my 
powers  of  observation  at  all  at  my  first  ball.  Of 
that  evening  I  recall  only  a  delirious  joy,  and  the 
foolish  things  I  said,  because  they  cost  me  a  sharp 
reprimand  the  next  day. 

From  time  to  time  Juno  tapped  me  on  the  arm  with 
her  fan,  and  whispered  in  my  ear  that  I  was  behaving 
ridiculously;  but  it  was  like  beating  the  air,  and  I 
flew  off  in  the  arms  of  my  partners,  thinking  that  if 
the  waltz  is  not  allowed  in  heaven,  it  is  hardly  worth 
while  to  go  there. 

Sometimes  my  cavalier  tried  to  make  a  little 
conversation. 

"You  have  not  lived  in  this  part  of  the  country 
long,  Mademoiselle  ?  " 


1 62  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"No,  Monsieur;  about  six  weeks. " 

"Where  did  you  live  before  you  came  to  Pavol?  " 

"At  Buisson, — a  frightful  place,  with  a  frightful 
aunt,  who  is  dead,  Dieu  merci!" 

•'In  any  case,  your  name  is  very  well  known, 
Mademoiselle;  there  was  a  Chevalier  de  Lavalle  shut 
up  at  Mont  St.  Michel  in  1423." 

"  Indeed !   What  was  he  doing  there,  this  chevalier?  " 

"  Why,  he  defended  the  place  when  it  was  attacked 
by  the  English." 

"  Instead  of  dancing?     What  a  great  simpleton !  " 

"  Is  that  your  appreciation  of  your  ancestors  and  of 
heroism,  Mademoiselle?" 

"My  ancestors!  I  never  thought  of  them.  As  to 
heroism,  I  have  no  opinion  of  that." 

"What  has  it  done  to  you,  this  poor  heroism?  " 

"The  Romans  were  heroic,  it  seems;  and  I  detest 
the  Romans !  But  let  us  waltz  instead  of  talking. " 

And  I  tired  my  partner  out. 

My  happiness  reached  its  height  when,  in  that  bril- 
liantly lighted  salon,  under  the  eyes  of  the  ladies  en 
grande  toilette,  in  the  midst  of  that  world  from  which 
I  had  been  so  far  such  a  little  time  before,  I  danced 
with  Monsieur  de  Conprat.  There  was  no  doubt  that 
he  danced  better  than  any  of  the  others.  Although  he 
was  large,  and  I  was  very  small,  his  beautiful  blond 
mustache,  twisted  into  a  point,  caressed  my  cheek 
from  time  to  time;  and  I  had  certain  little  tempta- 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  163 

tions  of  which  I  will  not  speak,  for  fear  of  scandaliz- 
ing my  neighbour. 

Intoxicated  with  joy  and  the  compliments  which 
buzzed  around  me,  I  said  all  the  silly  things  imagi- 
nable and  unimaginable;  but  I  made  the  conquest  of  all 
the  men,  and  was  the  despair  of  all  the  young  girls. 

The  cotillon  excited  my  wildest  enthusiasm;  and 
when  my  uncle,  who  had  the  air  of  a  martyr  in  his 
corner,  made  us  a  sign  that  it  was  time  to  go,  I 
called  out  from  one  end  of  the  salon  to  the  other: 

"  Uncle,  you  shall  not  take  me  away  except  at  the 
point  of  the  bayonet !  " 

But  I  had  to  dispense  with  bayonets,  and  follow 
Juno,  who,  beautiful  and  dignified  as  ever,  made 
haste  to  obey  her  father  without  considering  my 
protestations. 

Having  returned  to  my  room,  I  undressed  myself 
calmly  enough;  but  when  in  my  nightdress  and  just 
on  the  point  of  getting  into  bed,  I  was  seized  with  an 
irresistible  craze.  I  caught  up  my  bolster  and  began 
to  waltz  with  it,  singing  at  the  top  of  my  lungs. 

Juno,  whose  room  was  not  far  from  mine,  came  in, 
a  little  frightened. 

"  What  are  you  doing,  Reine  ?  " 

"You  see  perfectly  well.     I  am  waltzing." 

"Man  Dieu!  what  a  child  you  are!  " 

"My  dear,  if  the  world  were  wise,  it  would  waltz 
day  and  night." 


164  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"Come,  Reine,  it  is  cold;  you  will  be  ill.  Get 
into  bed,  I  beg." 

I  threw  my  bolster  into  a  corner,  and  slipped  be- 
tween my  sheets.  Blanche  seated  herself  on  the  bed, 
and  began  a  harangue.  She  tried  to  convince  me 
that  self-control  in  every  event  of  life  is  a  great 
accomplishment;  that  everything  has  a  time  and 
place;  that,  after  all,  a  bolster  does  not  seem  a  very 
charming  partner,  and  — 

"As  to  that,  I  am  of  your  opinion,"  I  said,  inter- 
rupting her  abruptly.  "  It  is  only  dancers  in  flesh 
and  blood  who  amount  to  anything,  and  are  agree- 
able, especially  when  they  have  mustaches;  blond 
mustaches,  for  instance.  A  little  mustache  which 
caresses  the  cheek  while  one  is  waltzing, — ah!  that 
is  truly  deli  —  " 

On  this  I  fell  asleep,  and  did  not  wake  up  until 
the  next  afternoon  at  three  o'clock. 

When  I  was  dressed,  Monsieur  de  Pavol  asked  me 
to  come  to  his  study.  I  went  at  once  on  this  invita- 
tion, imagining  that  my  uncle's  brain  was  concocting 
some  lecture.  From  his  solemn  air  I  saw  that  my 
surmises  were  correct;  and  as  I  always  loved  my  ease 
as  much  during  lectures  as  in  other  circumstances 
of  life,  I  pushed  forward  an  easy-chair,  in  which  I 
settled  myself  comfortably;  I  crossed  my  hands  in 
my  lap,  and  closed  my  eyes  in  an  attitude  of  pro- 
found attention. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  165 

At  the  end  of  two  seconds,  hearing  nothing,  I  said : 

"Very  well,  Uncle;  go  ahead." 

"Have  the  kindness  to  sit  up,  Reine,  and  take  a 
more  respectful  position !  " 

"But,  Uncle,"  I  said,  opening  my  eyes  in  astonish- 
ment, "  I  had  no  intention  of  being  disrespectful !  I 
took  a  receptive  position,  the  better  to  listen  to 
you." 

"My  niece,  you  will  drive  me  distracted!" 

"It  is  very  likely,  Uncle,"  I  answered  quietly; 
"my  cure  told  me  often  that  I  nearly  killed  him." 

"And  do  you  really  think  that  I  wish  to  go  to 
the  Devil  because  of  a  little  girl  who  has  been  badly 
brought  up?  " 

"In  the  first  place,  Uncle,  I  hope  you  will  never 
go  to  the  Devil,  much  as  you  love  that  personage; 
secondly,  I  should  be  most  unhappy  to  lose  you,  be- 
cause I  love  you  with  all  my  heart." 

"Hum!  that  is  most  delightful.  Will  you  tell 
me  now  why,  after  my  lessons  and  my  counsels,  you 
behaved  so  improperly  last  night?" 

"  Make  your  charges  specific,  Uncle. " 

"  That  would  take  too  long,  because  everything  you 
did  was  badly  done;  you  had  the  air  of  a  horse  broken 
loose.  Among  other  blunders,  when  you  saw  Mon- 
sieur de  Conprat,  you  called  him  by  his  first  name. 
I  was  near  you,  and  saw  that  your  partner  was 
greatly  astonished." 


1 66  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"I  believe  him  capable  of  it.     He  had  the  air  of 


a  goose! 

"  I  am  not  a  goose,  Reine ;  and  I  tell  you  that  it 
was  not  well-bred." 

"But,  Uncle,  he  is  our  cousin;  we  see  him  nearly 
every  day,  Blanche  and  I ;  we  always  call  him  Paul 
when  we  speak  of  him,  and  even  when  we  speak  to 
him." 

"That  is  allowed  in  the  intimacy  of  private  life, 
but  not  in  the  world,  where  every  one  is  not  supposed 
to  know  relationships  and  connections. " 

"So  it  is  necessary  to  act  in  one  way  at  home 
and  in  another  in  the  world?" 

"That  is  what  I  am  trying  to  tell  you,  my  niece." 

"It  is  hypocrisy,  neither  more  nor  less." 

"In  Heaven's  name,  be  a  hypocrite!  I  ask  nothing 
else.  Next,  it  appears  that  you  told  five  or  six 
young  gentlemen  that  they  were  very  delightful." 

"It's  perfectly  true!"  I  cried,  in  an  outburst  of 
sympathy  for  my  partners.  "  So  charming,  so  polite, 
so  attentive!  Then  I  was  confused  as  to  my  prom- 
ises, and  was  afraid  of  vexing  them." 

"  Meantime,  you  vex  me  greatly,  Reine.  It  is  now 
seven  weeks  since  Blanche  and  I  began  to  try  to  make 
you  understand  that  it  is  good  form  to  weigh  your  ac- 
tions and  the  expression  of  your  opinions;  neverthe- 
less, you  seize  every  occasion  to  say  or  do  some  stupid 
thing.  You  have  intelligence;  you  are  coquettish; 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  167 

unhappily  for  me,  you  have  a  face  ten  times  too  pretty, 
and  —  " 

"That  is  something  like!"  I  interrupted  delight- 
edly. "  How  I  love  lectures !  " 

"Reine,  do  not  interrupt  me;  I  am  speaking 
seriously." 

"  Come,  Uncle,  let  us  reason.  The  first  time  you 
saw  me  you  said,  'You  are  devilish  pretty!  ' 

"Very  well,  my  niece?  " 

"Very  well,  Uncle;  you  see  clearly  that  one  cannot 
always  repress  a  first  impulse." 

"It  is  possible;  but  you  ought  to  try,  and,  above  all, 
to  listen  to  me.  Notwithstanding  your  extreme  youth 
and  your  slight  figure,  you  have  the  air  of  a  woman ; 
try  to  have  the  dignity  of  one." 

"The  dignity!"  I  said,  astonished.     "What  for?" 

"How!    What  for?" 

"  I  do  not  understand,  Uncle.  Would  you  preach 
dignity  to  me  when  the  government  has  so  little? " 

"  I  do  not  catch  the  connection.  What  is  this  new 
freak?" 

"  But,  Uncle,  you  assert  that  the  government  passes 
its  time  in  playing  at  rackets.  For  a  government, 
frankly,  this  is  undignified.  Why  should  private  in- 
dividuals be  more  dignified  than  ministers  and 
senators  ? " 

My  uncle  laughed. 

"It  is  difficult  to  scold  you,  Reine;  you  slip  through 


1 68  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

the  fingers  like  an  eel.  But  be  that  as  it  may,  I  as- 
sure you  that  if  you  are  not  willing  to  listen  to  me, 
you  shall  go  no  more  into  society." 

"Oh,  Uncle,  if  you  did  such  a  thing  as  that  you 
would  deserve  the  tortures  of  the  Inquisition!" 

"The  Inquisition  being  abolished,  I  shall  not  be 
tortured.  But  you  must  obey  me;  be  certain  of  that. 
I  do  not  wish  my  niece  to  acquire  habits  and  manners 
which,  though  endurable  at  her  age,  would  later  on 
make  her  pass  for  —  hum!" 

"For  what,  Uncle?" 

Monsieur  de  Pavol  had  a  violent  fit  of  coughing. 

"  Hum !  for  a  woman  brought  up  in  the  backwoods 
or  some  such  place." 

"Such  a  description  of  me  would  not  be  so  foolish. 
Buisson  and  the  backwoods  are  very  much  alike." 

"  In  short,  my  niece,  make  up  your  mind  that  I  am 
speaking  seriously.  Go,  and  think  it  over." 

This  time  I  realized  that  I  could  not  trifle  with  so 
serious  a  reprimand.  I  shut  myself  up  in  my  room, 
where  I  sulked  for  twenty-eight  and  a  half  minutes, 
during  which  time  I  felt  springing  up  in  my  heart  a 
praiseworthy  desire  to  make  acquaintance  with  self 
control. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 


T  LEARNED  speedily  that  sometimes  proverbs  do 
•*-  not  belie  their  reputation  for  wisdom;  that  in 
certain  cases  to  will  is  to  do;  and  that  with  a  lit- 
tle effort  on  my  part,  I  was  able  to  put  in  practice 
my  uncle's  suggestions.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that 
I  committed  no  more  blunders, — oh,  no,  they  still 
came  often  enough, — but  I  succeeded  in  becoming 
more  sedate  and  in  acquiring  comparatively  quiet 
ways. 

In  fact,  though  my  uncle  had  reproved  me,  it  was 
rather,  as  he  himself  said,  with  an  eye  to  the  future, 
for  I  found  myself  in  a  place  where  my  words  and 
deeds  were  judged  with  the  greatest  indulgence,  —  a 
place  full  of  courtesy,  consideration,  and  kindly  tradi- 
tions, in  which,  without  my  suspecting  it,  I  had  a 
goodly  number  of  relatives  and  connections. 


i  jo  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

Thanks  to  my  name,  my  beauty,  and  my  dot,  many 
of  my  sins  against  the  proprieties  were  forgiven  me. 
I  was  the  spoiled  child  of  the  dowagers,  who  repeated 
with  delight  stories  of  my  grandparents,  my  great- 
grandparents,  and  sundry  ancestors  whose  doings 
must  have  been  remarkable  to  make  these  amiable 
marquises  speak  of  them  with  so  much  warmth.  I 
discovered  with  satisfaction  that  ancestors  are  of  some 
use  in  life,  and  that  they  hide  with  their  dusty  shields 
the  pertness  and  whims  of  youthful  descendants  who 
have  come  out  of  the  backwoods. 

I  was  the  spoiled  child  of  prospective  husbands,  who 
saw  my  dot  shine  in  my  beautiful  eyes;  the  spoiled 
child  of  my  partners  in  the  dance,  because  my  coquetry 
amused  them ;  and  I  confess  very,  very  low,  that  I  felt 
a  great  delight  in  laying  waste  their  hearts,  and  in 
turning  certain  heads  into  weathercocks. 

Oh,  Coquetry,  what  a  charm  lies  hidden  in  every 
letter  of  thy  name ! 

The  taste  for  it  must  have  been  inborn  with  me, 
for  after  two  or  three  evenings,  I  knew  its  details, 
its  shades,  and  its  wiles. 

I  should  like  to  be  a  preacher  simply  to  preach 
coquetry  to  my  audience,  and  to  refuse  absolution  to 
my  penitents  so  lacking  in  judgment  as  not  to  give 
themselves  up  to  this  charming  pastime.  I  should 
not  perhaps  remain  long  in  the  bosom  of  the  Church; 
but  in  my  brief  career  I  think  that  I  should  make 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  171 

some  converts.  I  pity  men  who,  thinking  they  know 
everything,  are  ignorant  of  the  choicest,  the  most 
delicate  of  pleasures.  In  my  eyes  they  lead  the  life 
of  a  simpleton,  or  at  best  that  of  a  pumpkin. 

While  I  was  all  animation,  and  was  overturning  all 
hearts,  Blanche  kept  on  her  way,  lovely  and  haughty, 
too  sure  of  her  beauty  to  take  any  trouble,  too  digni- 
fied to  descend  to  the  excitements  and  the  wiles  which 
delighted  me. 

Nevertheless,  when  my  first  effervescence  had  sub- 
sided, I  was  not  long  in  noticing  that  Monsieur  de 
Conprat  took  a  very  long  time  to  fall  in  love  with  me. 
He  saw  me  under  all  circumstances,  —  in  full  dress, 
in  demi-toilette,  coquettish,  serious,  sometimes  melan- 
choly, though  rarely,  I  must  confess;  and  notwith- 
standing all  these  varied  phases,  which  prevented  an 
attachment  to  me  being  monotonous,  not  only  did  he 
not  declare  himself,  but  he  seemed  really  to  treat  me 
as  a  child.  My  cure's  remark,  "Make  up  your  mind 
that  he  takes  you  for  a  little  girl  of  no  consequence," 
began  to  trouble  me  greatly. 

In  spite  of  my  coquetry,  my  amusements,  and  my 
numberless  distractions,  my  love  had  never  changed 
for  an  instant.  No  doubt  the  excitements  of  my  life 
prevented  my  thinking  of  it  constantly,  and  that  ex- 
plains my  long  blindness;  but  I  never  expected  to 
find  a  man  more  charming  than  Paul  de  Conprat.  And 
yet,  in  the  court  which  pressed  about  me,  there  were 


172  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

many  suitors  who  actually  resembled  the  heroes  of 
Walter  Scott  whom  I  had  so  greatly  admired.  I  often 
asked  myself  how  my  stout  hero,  with  his  cheerful 
face  and  his  wonderful  appetite,  had  been  able  to 
affect  me  so  astonishingly  when  I  was  under  the  in- 
fluence of  imaginary  personages  so  little  like  him. 
This  is  a  psychological  subject  which  I  shall  leave 
to  the  consideration  of  philosophers,  for,  as  to  my- 
self, I  have  no  time  to  stop;  I  state  the  fact,  I  make 
my  bow  to  philosophy,  and  I  pass  on. 

The  25th  of  October  we  had  our  last  dance,  in  a 
chateau  situated  near  Pavol.  I  put  on  a  light  blue 
dress  with  ornaments  in  my  black  hair,  which  was 
coquettishly  arranged.  I  was  particularly  pretty,  and 
that  night  I  had  a  wild  success,  —  a  success  so 
assured  that  during  the  following  week  five  offers  of 
marriage  were  made  to  my  uncle  for  me;  but  I  was 
restless,  feverish,  uneasy,  and,  contrary  to  my  custom, 
did  not  enjoy  the  infatuation  caused  by  my  beauty. 

I  awaited  Monsieur  de  Conprat  impatiently  in  order 
to  watch  him  with  my  own  eyes,  which  were  beginning 
to  be  opened.  He  generally  came  very  late  with  three 
or  four  young  men,  composing  the  smart  set  of  the 
neighbourhood.  These  gentlemen,  being  blast?  from 
their  earliest  youth,  and  finding  it  extremely  fatigu- 
ing, laborious,  and  heart-rending  to  dance  with  pretty 
women,  secured  a  few  partners  with  a  bored,  noncha- 
lant and  almost  impertinent  air,  except  Paul  de  Con- 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  175 

prat,  who  was  too  good  and  too  natural  not  to  dance 
with  the  satisfaction  which  the  circumstances  called 
for.  Sometimes,  I  must  say,  my  enthusiasm  dispelled 
the  ennui  of  these  unfortunate  victims  of  experience, 
as  a  warm  sun  dissipates  a  light  mist.  I  knew  so  well 
how  to  rouse  them,  to  raise  their  spirits,  to  make  them 
veer  with  every  breath  of  my  caprice,  that  my  uncle 
said,  "The  deuce  is  in  her!" 

Evil  to  him  who  evil  thinketh. 

I  noticed  with  vexation  that  Paul  waltzed  with 
Blanche  often,  while  he  seldom  asked  me,  and  then 
without  ceremony  or  eagerness.  I  redoubled  my 
coquetry  to  attract  his  attention,  but  what  difference 
did  it  make  to  him?  His  thoughts  and  his  heart 
were  far  from  me;  and  I  took  refuge  in  a  distant 
corner,  refusing  positively  to  dance. 

For  a  few  seconds  I  hid  myself  in  the  curtains 
which  separated  the  large  salon  from  a  boudoir  where 
a  number  of  ladies  were  sitting;  and  there  I  overheard 
the  conversation  of  two  excellent  dowagers  of  whom 
I  had  made  a  conquest. 

"Reine  is  delightful  this  evening;  she  is  the  great- 
est success,  as  she  always  is." 

"  Blanche  de  Pavol  is  more  beautiful,  though. " 

"Yes;  but  she  has  less  charm.  She  is  a  haughty 
queen,  and  Mademoiselle  de  Lavalle  the  adorable 
little  princess  of  fairy  stories." 

"Princess  is  the  right  word  for  her;  she  comes  of 


176  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

a  family  of  princes,  and  what  would  shock  one  in 
others  is  charming  in  her." 

"They  say  that  the  marriage  of  her  cousin  with 
Monsieur  de  Conprat  is  arranged." 

"  I  have  heard  so. " 

For  some  seconds,  orchestra,  dowagers,  waltzers, 
executed  before  me  a  dance  without  name;  and  to 
escape  falling  I  clung  to  the  hangings  in  which  I 
was  shrouded. 

When  I  recovered  from  my  shock,  the  brilliant 
salon  seemed  to  me  hung  with  thick  crepe.  To 
Juno's  great  surprise  I  begged  her  to  go  home  at 
once,  without  waiting  for  the  cotillon. 

As  we  returned  to  Pavol,  I  kept  saying  to  myself, 
"  It  is  not  true ;  I  am  sure  that  it  is  not  true !  Why 
should  I  take  it  so  much  to  heart  ? " 

But  I  undressed  myself  in  tears,  with  the  feeling 
that  a  great  trouble  was^  coming  upon  me. 

Still,  as  nothing  is  more  variable  than  one's  spirits 
at  sixteen,  the  next  day  I  began  to  hope  again,  and  to 
consider  the  talk  of  these  ladies  as  idle  gossip.  I  re- 
solved to  watch  Monsieur  de  Conprat ;  and  I  was  in  a 
condition  of  mind  in  which  the  slightest  sign  would 
substantiate  my  suspicions,  though  they  were  past  and 
fleeting. 

In  the  afternoon  of  this  ill-omened  day  we  were  all 
in  the  salon.  The  commandant  and  my  uncle  were 
having  a.  game  of  chess.  Blanche  was  playing  a 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  177 

sonata  of  Beethoven;  and  I,  stretched  in  a  chair, 
watched,  under  my  half-closed  eyelids,  the  attitude 
and  expression  of  Paul  de  Conprat.  Seated  near  the 
piano,  a  little  behind  Juno,  he  listened  with  a  seri- 
ous air,  without  taking  his  eyes  off  her.  I  knew 
that  this  serious  expression  was  unnatural,  and  showed 
that  he  was  bored.  I  was  confirmed  in  my  opinion 
by  noticing  that  he  tried  to  suppress  certain  little 
unseasonable  yawns.  It  was  then  that  I  suddenly 
recalled  my  own  pleasure  when  he  played  dance 
music.  I  realized  that  I  did  not  love  the  airs,  but 
the  player,  and  that  he  had  precisely  the  same  feel- 
ing. He  did  not  care  for  Beethoven,  but  he  was  in 
love  with  Blanche,  and  things  personally  uncongenial 
pleased  him  in  the  woman  he  loved. 

Juno  finished  her  frightful  sonata;  and  Paul  said 
to  her  with  an  enthusiasm  of  which  I  knew  the  hid- 
den motive,  — 

"What  a  master  Beethoven  was!  You  interpret 
him  perfectly,  Cousin." 

"You  yawned!"  I  cried,  springing  to  my  feet  so 
suddenly  that  the  chess-players  gave  a  tremendous 
growl. 

"  I  thought  you  were  asleep,  Reine !  " 

"  No,  I  was  not  asleep ;  and  I  say  that  Paul  yawned 
while  you  were  playing  your  wretched  Beethoven." 

"Reine  dislikes  music  so  much,"  said  my  uncle, 
"that  she  ascribes  to  others  her  own  feelings." 

12 


178  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"Yes,  yes!  My  feelings  have  made  me  a  charm- 
ing discovery,"  I  answered  in  a  trembling  voice. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Reine  ?  You  are  out  of 
humour  because  you  did  not  sleep  enough  last  night." 

"  I  am  not  out  of  humour,  Juno,  but  I  detest  hypoc- 
risy; and  I  repeat,  maintain,  and  will  maintain  to  the 
very  death  that  Paul  yawned,  and  yawned  a  second 
time." 

After  this  outburst  I  fled  with  the  calm  of  a  whirl- 
wind, leaving  the  occupants  of  the  salon  plunged  in 
astonishment. 

I  shut  myself  up  in  my  room,  and  paced  back  and 
forth,  cursing  my  blindness  and  thumping  myself  on 
my  head  with  my  fist,  after  the  fashion  of  Perrine 
when  she  was  perplexed;  but  thumping  the  head 
with  the  fist,  aside  from  its  disturbing  the  brain,  has 
never  been  of  use  as  a  remedy  for  unhappy  love,  and 
absolutely  discouraged,  I  fell  into  an  easy-chair, 
where  I  remained  a  long  time,  thoroughly  chilled 
and  miserable. 

As  in  all  cases  of  this  sort,  I  recalled  words  and 
occurrences  which  I  said  to  myself  ought  to  have 
enlightened  me  times  without  number.  My  chief 
feeling,  among  many  other  very  confused  ones,  was 
that  of  intense  anger;  and  my  pride  awaking,  great 
and  sore,  made  me  swear  that  no  one  should  per- 
ceive my  trouble.  I  was  sincere  in  this,  and  firmly 
believed  that  it  would  be  easy  tor  me  to  dissemble 


My  Uncle  and  My  Cure.  179 

my  feelings,  although  I  had  been  accustomed  to  hurl 
them  at  people's  heads. 

I  was  passing  through  one  of  those  moments  of 
irritation  when  the  most  placid  individual  feels  a  vio- 
lent desire  to  strangle  some  one  or  to  break  some- 
thing. The  nerves,  which  cannot  be  relieved  by 
tears,  feel  the  need  of  some  relaxation;  and  I  seized 
my  little  terra-cotta  men,  whose  grimaces  and  smiles 
seemed  to  me  all  at  once  odious  and  ridiculous.  I 
hurled  them  straightway  through  the  window,  experi- 
encing a  bitter  pleasure  in  hearing  them  break  on  the 
gravel  of  the  walk. 

But  my  uncle,  who  was  passing,  received  one  on  his 
venerable  head,  happily  protected  by  a  hat,  and  find- 
ing the  performance  outside  all  the  laws  of  etiquette, 
uttered  an  expressive  exclamation, — 

"What  devil's  play  are  you  at  there,  my  niece?  " 
"  I  am  throwing  my  little  men  out  of  the  window, 
Uncle,"  I  answered,  approaching  the  casement,   from 
which  I  had  kept  at  some   distance  in  order  to  hurl 
my  projectiles  with  more  force. 

"  Is  that  a  reason  for  breaking  my  head  ?  " 
"A  thousand  pardons,  Uncle;  I  did  not  see  you." 
"Have  you  suddenly  gone  crazy,  my  niece?     Why 
do  you  break  all  your  bibelots?"1 

"They  set  my  teeth  on  edge,  Uncle;  they  put  me 
out  of  patience;  they  make  me  nervous!  There, 
that's  the  last  of  them!" 


i8o  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

I  hurled  five  at  the  same  time,  and  closing  the 
window  abruptly,  left  Monsieur  de  Pavol  to  storm 
against  nieces,  their  whims,  and  his  disordered  walk. 

That  night  he  lectured  me,  but  I  heard  absolutely 
unmoved  that  miserable  lecture,  which,  in  the  midst 
of  my  serious  anxieties,  produced  no  more  effect  than 
a  soap-bubble  breaking  on  my  head. 

After  dinner  I  went  to  look  at  my  little  terra-cotta 
men,  which  were  lying  piteously  on  the  walk.  Broken! 
pulverized!  —  exactly  like  my  illusions  and  my  happi- 
ness, which  I  believed  lost  forever. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 


1\  /T  Y  lack  of  perspicacity  may  perhaps  seem  aston- 
•^'^  ishing;  but  who  is  there,  who,  without  the 
excuse  of  my  sixteen  years,  has  not  given,  at  some 
time  in  his  life,  proofs  of  the  most  inconceivable 
blindness?  I  should  like  to  know  if  there  exists  a 
man  who  does  not  consider  himself  a  fool  for  not 
having  seen  a  thing  for  a  long  time,  although  it  was 
plainly  visible.  Ah,  it  is  easy  to  talk  of  clear- 
sightedness, and  as  easy  to  show  it,  when  a  thing  is 
under  one's  — 

It  was  a  veritable  torture  now  for  me  to  watch 
Monsieur  de  Conprat,  to  note  all  the  delicate  atten- 
tions he  showed  Blanche,  knowing  perfectly  what  was 
the  hidden  motive.  How  I  wept  in  secret!  But 
never,  I  believe,  did  I  feel  any  great  jealousy  of 


1 82  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

Blanche.  Man  Dicu,  no!  I  was  a  little  thing  who 
loved  sincerely  and  deeply ;  there  was  not  the  shadow 
of  bitterness  in  my  love.  I  was,  however,  in  a  con- 
stant irritation  at  Monsieur  de  Conprat.  He  was  the 
scapegoat  upon  whom  I  vented  my  ill-humour,  my 
heart-ache,  and  my  bitterness ;  as  a  matter  of  course, 
I  never  stopped  teasing  him  and  saying  tart  things. 
Then  I  would  take  refuge  in  my  room,  where  I  would 
stride  to  and  fro,  saying  to  myself,  - 

"What  an  intelligent  thing  it  is  to  fall  in  love  with 
a  woman  whose  character  is  so  little  like  your  own! 
He  so  gay,  so  talkative,  —  as  talkative  as  I  am, 
really!  and  she  sedate,  silent,  a  worshipper  of  eti- 
quette, while  he  is  sometimes  bored  by  it, — I  see  it 
clearly.  We  are  so  alike!  Why  has  he  not  seen 
it?  But  Blanche  is  as  good  as  she  is  beautiful;  he 
has  known  her  a  long  time;  and,  after  all,  love  is 
not  its  own  master  — 

But  these  excellent  reasons  did  not  console  me  in 
the  least.  I  went  to  bed  sobbing,  and  even  sometimes 
sobbed  in  the  night;  and  notwithstanding  my  firm 
resolve  to  hide  my  feelings,  by  the  end  of  a  fortnight 
the  family  and  habitues  of  Pavol  were  astonished  at 
my  strange  caprices. 

In  the  morning  I  would  be  light-hearted  almost  to 
laughter;  in  the  evening  I  would  take  my  place  at 
the  table  with  a  sombre  mien,  and  would  not  open 
my  lips  during  the  meal. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  183 

This  silence,  so  contrary  to  my  habits,  disquieted 
Monsieur  de  Pavol  greatly. 

"What  is  passing  through  your  little  brain,  Reine?  " 

"Nothing,  Uncle." 

"Are  you  bored?     Would  you  like  to  travel?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  Uncle !  I  should  be  very  sorry  to 
leave  Pavol." 

"  If  you  still  wish  to  marry,  my  niece,  you  are  free 
to  do  so.  I  am  not  a  tyrant.  Do  you  regret  the 
refusals  to  the  proposals  which  have  been  following 
one  another  for  some  time?" 

"No,  Uncle;  I  have  given  up  my  idea.  I  do  not 
wish  to  marry." 

These  unhappy  proposals  added  to  my  troubles.  I 
could  not  hear  of  marriage  without  wanting  to  weep. 
Though  Monsieur  de  Pavol  did  not  urge  me  to 
accept,  he  made  me  see  the  advantages  of  each  offer, 
and  insisted  mildly  that  I  should  at  least  make  the 
acquaintance  of  my  suitors.  He  would  even  have 
easily  enough  passed  them  as  "extraordinary  cases; " 
and  among  the  numberless  discoveries  which  I  was 
making  every  day,  my  uncle's  inconsistency  was  not 
the  least  astonishing.  At  the  bottom  of  his  heart 
I  believe  that  he  was  a  little  frightened  at  the  charge 
of  a  soul,  which  had  fallen  upon  him.  But  he  left 
me  entirely  free,  and  was  satisfied  with  my  reasons 
for  refusing  certain  offers,  although  they  had  neither 
head  nor  tail. 


184  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"  Why  did  you  say  so  often  that  you  were  eager  to 
marry,  Reine  ? "  Blanche  asked  me. 

"  I  will  not  marry  until  I  have  found  what  I  wish." 

"  Ah !  and  what  do  you  wish  ?  " 

"I  do  not  know  yet,"  I  answered  chokingly. 

Blanche  took  my  face  in  her  two  hands  and  looked 
at  me  closely. 

"I  would  like  to  read  your  thoughts,  little  Reine. 
Do  you  love  any  one?  Is  it  Paul?" 

"I  swear  that  it  is  not,"  I  said,  escaping  from  her 
embrace.  "  I  do  not  love  any  one,  and  when  I  do, 
you  shall  know  it  at  once." 

If  death  were  not  such  a  frightful  thing,  I  am  sure 
that  one  could  have  killed  me  then  before  I  would 
have  acknowledged  my  love  for  a  man  who  loved  an- 
other woman,  and  this  woman  my  cousin.  Happily  it 
was  a  question  of  neither  the  stake  nor  the  guillotine, 
the  sight  of  which  would  probably  have  destroyed  my 
stoicism. 

"  I  am  doing  as  you  are  doing,  Blanche,  —  I  am 
waiting." 

"  I  am  not  the  same  success  as  my  little  savage  from 
Buisson,"  she  said,  smiling.  "  Five  proposals  at  once !  " 

"Don't  speak  to  me  of  it  any  more,  I  beg;  it  tires 
me,  bores  me,  and  wears  me  out." 

Unhappily  a  sixteenth  suitor,  uniting  in  himself 
qualities  the  most  rare,  the  most  extraordinary,  the 
most  perfect,  placed  himself  all  at  once  in  the  ranks 


My  Uncle  and  My  Cure.  187 

of  my  adorers.  Alas!  I  reaped  what  I  had  sown,  be- 
cause on  entering  society  I  had  taken  pains  to  say  to 
every  one  that  I  meant  to  marry  as  soon  as  possible. 

My  uncle  summoned  me,  and  we  had  a  long  talk 
together. 

"  Reine,  Monsieur  Le  Maltour  desires  the  honour  of 
marrying  you." 

"  Great  good  may  it  do  him,  Uncle !  " 

"  Does  he  please  you  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all !  " 

"Why  not?  Give  me  some  reasons,  good  reasons; 
those  the  other  day,  for  the  offers  you  refused  off- 
hand, were  worth  nothing." 

"Your  suitors  were  not  presentable,  Uncle." 

"  Let  us  see:  Monsieur  de  P was  excellent." 

"  Oh,  a  man  of  thirty !     Why  not  a  patriarch  ?  " 

"And  Monsieur  C ?  " 

"A  frightful  name,  Uncle!" 

"Monsieur  de  N ,  a  young  fellow  of  excellent 

parts  and  very  intelligent?" 

"  I  counted  his  hairs.  He  had  not  over  fourteen ; 
and  he  only  twenty-six  years  old." 

"Ah!  and  little  D ?" 

"  I  do  not  like  dark  men.  Besides,  he  is  a  perfect 
nonentity.  Once  married,  he  would  adore  his  figure, 
his  cravats,  and  my  dot,  that's  all!" 

"I  give  you  up;  but  to  come  back  to  the  Baron 
Le  Maltour,  what  do  you  object  to  in  him?" 


1 88  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"A  man  who  only  danced  square  dances  with   me 
because  I  did  not  waltz  d  trois  temps!"  I  cried  with, 
indignation. 

"A  real  grievance!  Reine,  I  repeat  that  I  think 
it  absurd  to  marry  so  young;  but  notwithstanding 
your  dot  and  your  beauty,  perhaps  you  will  never 
again  have  an  offer  like  this.  He  is  a  thorough 
gentleman,  and  I  have  the  best  reports  as  to  his 
morals  and  his  character;  he  has  an  immense  for- 
tune, a  title;  his  family  is  honourable  and  very 
ancient." 

"Ah,  yes;  ancestors!  that  is  what  Blanche  said,"  I 
interrupted  disdainfully.  "  I  have  a  horror  of  ances- 
tors, Uncle." 

"Why  so?" 

"People  whose  only  idea  was  to  fight  and  get  their 
heads  broken.  What  idiocy!" 

"Very    well!     I    know   that    the    registrar   of    the 

court    at    V thmks    you    charming.     He    has    no 

ancestors;  would  you  like  him  to  be  told  that  for 
that  reason  Mademoiselle  de  Lavalle  is  disposed  to 
marry  him? " 

"Do  not  laugh  at  me,  Uncle;  you  know  perfectly 
well  that  I  am  patrician  to  my  finger-tips,"  I  an- 
swered, seizing  the  occasion  to  admire  my  hand  and 
the  ends  of  my  taper  fingers. 

"That  is  what  I  thought,  if  your  appearance  did 
not  deceive  me.  Now,  my  niece,  listen  to  me.  You 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  189 

do  not  know  Monsieur  Le  Maltour  well  enough  to 
form  an  opinion  of  him;  and  I  must  insist  on  your 
seeing  him  a  number  of  times  before  giving  a  final 
answer.  I  am  going  to  write  Madame  Le  Maltour 
that  the  decision  rests  with  you,  and  that  I  authorize 
her  son  to  present  himself  at  Pavol  whenever  it  shall 
seem  good  to  him." 

"Very  well,  Uncle;  it  shall  be  as  you  wish." 

Five  minutes  after,  I  was  wandering  in  the  wood, 
a  prey  to  the  most  violent  agitation. 

"Ah,  that  is  it!"  I  said,  biting  my  handkerchief 
to  stop  my  sobs;  "he  shall  have  a  pleasant  reception, 
this  Maltour.  I  will  give  him  four  days  to  vanish  out 
of  my  life.  And  my  uncle,  who  sees  nothing,  who 
understands  nothing ! " 

I  was  mistaken.  My  uncle,  notwithstanding  my 
sudden  attempts  at  dissembling,  saw  very  clearly,  but 
he  acted  wisely.  He  could  not  prevent  Monsieur  de 
Conprat  from  loving  his  daughter,  and  abandon  the 
dream  in  which  he  and  the  commandant  had  indulged 
so  long.  Besides,  thoroughly  convinced  that  my  feel- 
ing had  little  depth,  and  that  there  was  much  of 
child's  play  in  it,  he  fancied  that  the  best  way  to 
cure  this  caprice  was  to  turn  my  thoughts  toward  a 
man  who,  in  loving  me,  would  make  me  love  him, 
according  to  the  axiom,  Love  begets  love. 

His  reasoning  would  have  been  perfect  had  he  not 
been  mistaken  in  his  premises. 


190  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

Two  days  later  Madame  Le  Maltour  and  her  son 
arrived  at  Pavol,  smiles  on  their  lips  and  hope  in 
their  glances.  The  excellent  lady  said  a  hundred 
amiable  things  to  me,  to  which  I  responded  with  a 
Jesuitical  scowl. 

The  baron  was  a  good  soul  —  allow  me,  I  do  not 
mean  to  say  by  that,  that  he  was  stupid,  not  at  all. 
He  was  intellectual  and  witty;  but  he  was  only 
twenty-three  years  old.  He  was  bashful  and  very 
much  in  love, — a  final  peculiarity  which  did  not 
unlock  his  wits,  but  which  it  would  be  bad  taste  in 
me  to  reproach  him  with. 

The  next  day  he  came  to  see  us  without  his  mother, 
and  made  an  effort  to  talk  to  me. 

"Are  you  sorry  that  there  are  no  more  balls, 
Mademoiselle?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  I,  in  a  tone  as  supercilious  as  that 
of  Suzon. 

"Did  you  have  a  good  time  the  other  day,  at 
the  s'  ?  " 

"  No !  " 

"It  was  brilliant,  though.  What  a  pretty  dress 
you  wore !  Do  you  like  blue  ?  " 

"Evidently,  since  I  wore  it." 

Monsieur  Le  Maltour  coughed  discreetly,  to  keep 
up  his  courage. 

"  Are  you  fond  of  travel,  Mademoiselle  ?  " 

"No." 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  191 

"You  surprise  me;  I  should  have  thought  you  loved 
adventure  and  change  of  scene. " 

" How  silly !     I  am  afraid  of  everything." 

The  conversation  went  on  for  some  time  in  this 
fashion.  Disconcerted  by  my  curtness  and  the  in- 
terest with  which,  in  the  most  impertinent  way  in 
the  world,  I  watched  the  performances  of  a  fly  who 
was  walking  on  the  arm  of  my  chair,  the  baron  rose, 
a  trifle  red,  and  cut  short  his  visit. 

My  uncle  escorted  him  to  the  garden  gate,  and 
came  back  in  a  rage  to  find  me. 

"This  cannot  go  on,  Reine!  You  are  rude  to  me 
as  well  as  to  this  poor  fellow,  who  is  bashful,  and 
whom  you  disconcert  absolutely.  Monsieur  Le  Mai- 
tour  is  not  a  man  to  be  treated  like  a  puppet,  my 
niece.  No  one  will  oblige  you  to  marry  him,  but  I 
wish  you  to  be  polite  and  amiable.  Heaven  knows 
you  have  a  glib  tongue  when  you  wish !  Try  to  have 
it  to-morrow.  Monsieur  Le  Maltour  will  breakfast 
here." 

"Very  good,  Uncle;  I  will  talk,  have  no  fear." 

"Don't  talk  foolishly  either." 

"I  will  get  my  inspiration  from  science,  Uncle,"  I 
answered  majestically. 

"How?     From  —  " 

"Do  not  worry;  I  will  do  as  you  wish, — I  will 
talk  without  stopping." 

"That  is  not  the  point,  my  niece  — 


192  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure, 

But  I  left  my  uncle  to  confide  his  thought  to 
the  furniture  of  the  salon,  and  ran  into  the  library  to 
find  what  was  necessary  to  carry  out  the  idea  which 
had  come  into  my  head.  I  took  away  with  me  Male- 
branche's  Philosophy,  and  a  work  on  Tartary. 

Malebranche  nearly  produced  a  delirium;  and  I 
abandoned  him  to  devote  myself  to  Tartary,  which 
had  more  to  offer  me.  I  studied  some  pages  hard 
until  midnight,  grumbling  at  and  anathematizing  the 
inhabitants  of  Bokhara,  who  wore  such  strange  names. 
I  succeeded,  however,  in  mastering  some  details  about 
the  country  and  many  strange  words  of  the  signifi- 
cance of  which  I  was  entirely  ignorant.  I  went  to 
bed,  rubbing  my  hands. 

"We  shall  see,"  I  said  to  myself,  "if  Le  Maltour 
will  withstand  this  experience.  Ah,  my  worthy  uncle, 
I  will  get  the  best  of  him,  be  sure  of  that ;  and  in 
a  few  hours  I  shall  be  rid  of  this  intruder." 

The  next  day  he  presented  himself  with  the  pleas- 
ing and  awkward  air  of  a  man  who  is  treading  on 
needles;  but  I  received  him  so  graciously  that  he 
was  soon  at  his  ease,  and  Monsieur  de  Pavol's  anxiety 
disappeared. 

The  De  Conprats  and  the  cure  breakfasted  with 
us.  It  made  my  heart  ache  to  watch  Paul  talking 
gayly  with  Blanche,  while  I  was  condemned  to  un- 
dergo the  bashful  attentions  of  Monsieur  Le  Maltour, 
whose  fine  figure  wore  on  my  nerves. 


My  Uncle  and  My  Cure.  195 

"I  have  changed  my  opinion  since  yesterday,"  I 
said  to  him  suddenly.  "  I  am  very  fond  of  travel. " 

"  I  share  your  taste,  Mademoiselle ;  it  is  the  most 
intellectual  of  pleasures." 

"  You  have  travelled?  " 

"Yes,  a  little." 

"  Do  you  know  the   Ruddars,  the  Schakird-Pische, . 
the  Usbecs,    the  Tadjics,  the  Mollahs,    the   Dehbas- 
chi,   the  Pendja-Baschi,   the  Alamanes?"    I  said,  all 
in  a  breath,  confounding  race,   class,   and  rank. 

"Who  are  all  they?"  demanded  the  astounded 
baron. 

"What!  have  you  never  been  in  Tartary?  " 

"No,  never." 

"Never  been  in  Tartary!"  I  exclaimed  scornfully. 
"At  least  you  know  Nasr-Oullah-Bahadin-Khan-Melic- 
el-Mounemin-Bird-Blac-Bloc  and  the  Devil?" 

I  added  some  syllables  at  my  own  pleasure  to  the 
name  of  Nasr-Oullah,  to  produce  more  effect,  believ- 
ing that  the  spirit  of  this  worthy  man  would  not  rise 
from  the  tomb  to  reproach  me. 

My  uncle  and  his  guests  bit  their  lips  to  keep  from 
laughing. 

Monsieur  Le  Maltour  looked  really  frightened ;  and 
Blanche  cried,  - 

"Are  you  crazy,  Reine?  " 

"No,  not  in  the  least!  I  was  asking  Monsieur 
whether  he  shared  my  liking  for  Nasr-Oullah, — a 


196  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure, 

man  who,  it  appears,  had  all  the  vices.  He  passed 
his  time  in  cutting  his  fellow-creatures'  throats,  in 
throwing  ambassadors  into  dungeons  where  he  left 
them  to  rot;  in  short,  he  was  endowed  with  energy, 
and  was  never  timid,  —  a  horrible  fault,  in  my 
opinion.  And  his  country!  What  a  lovely  country! 
All  diseases  raged  there;  and  there  is  where  I  should 
send  my  husband.  Consumption,  small-pox,  vomit- 
ings that  last  six  months,  ulcers,  leprosy,  a  worm 
called  rischta,  which  gnaws  you;  to  get  rid  of  it, 
one  — 

"  Enough,  Reine,  enough ;  let  us  breakfast  in  peace. " 

"What  would  you  have,  Uncle?  I  find  myself 
drawn  to  Tartary.  And  you?"  I  said  to  Monsieur 
Le  Maltour. 

"What  you  say  is  indeed  not  very  encouraging, 
Mademoiselle." 

"For  those  who  have  no  blood  in  their  veins,"  I 
answered  scornfully.  "When  I  am  married,  I  shall 
go  to  Tartary." 

" Dieu  merci!  you  will  not  be  your  own  master,  my 
niece." 

"Be  very  sure  that  I  will,  Uncle.  I  shall  always 
go  to  my  own  head,  and  not  mind  my  husband.  For 
that  matter,  I  will  take  him  to  Bokhara  to  be  eaten 
by  worms." 

"How!  to  be  eaten  by  — "  murmured  the  baron, 
timidly. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  197 

"Yes,  Monsieur;  you  have  heard  correctly.  I  said 
'eaten  by  worms,'  because  in  my  eyes  the  most 
charming  position  in  life  is  that  of  a  widow!" 

High  and  puissant  Baron  Le  Maltour,  though  of  a 
gallant  race,  could  not  resist  this.  Realizing  the 
hidden  meaning  in  my  tartaric  caprices,  he  departed 
and  did  not  return. 

My  uncle  was  angry,  but  I  did  not  trouble  myself 
in  the  least.  I  pirouetted,  and  said  to  him  in  a 
sententious  tone,  - 

"Uncle,  who  wishes  an  end,  contrives  the  means." 


*T\  \  »  ay     •**   '  ^-^ 

aw  uvoii;          '^~~^"^J" 


N 

-         <ir.  .,.«**•?•• 


CHAPTER   XV. 

T  HAD  kept  my  promise  to  the  cure",  and  had  writ- 
-^  ten  him  very  regularly  twice  a  week.  The  hab- 
it seemed  so  sweet  and  consoling  to  him  that 
when  all  at  once  I  interrupted  the  regularity  of  my 
correspondence,  he  was  plunged  in  grief  and  anxiety. 
Absorbed  in  my  troubles,  I  remained  a  fortnight 
without  giving  a  sign  of  life;  then,  yielding  to  his 
urgent  entreaties,  I  sent  him  letters  like  this:  — 

"  Man  is  a  stupid  creature,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  —  I  am  getting 
to  find  that  out.  What  is  your  opinion,  my  cure  ?  I  embrace 
you,  —  in  defiance  of  all  the  proprieties." 

Or,- 

"Ah,  my  poor  cur£,  I  am  afraid  I  have  discovered  the 
source  of  the  cold  water  of  which  we  were  talking  three 
months  ago.  Happiness  does  not  exist ;  it  is  a  lure,  a  myth, 
anything  you  will,  except  reality. 

"  Adieu ;  if  death  did  not  make  us  so  ugly,  I  should  be 
glad  to  die.  To  die,  —  yes,  my  cure,  you  have  read  it  aright." 


My  Uncle  and  My  Cure.  199 

He  sent  me  letter  after  letter. 

DEAR  DAUGHTER,  —  What  does  the  tone  of  your  last  notes 
mean?  Three  weeks  ago  you  seemed  so  happy  in  the  joy 
and  pride  of  your  social  success.  No,  no,  little  Reine  ;  happi- 
ness is  not  a  myth,  —  it  shall  be  yours.  But  at  the  moment 
imagination  has  possession  of  you,  carries  you  away,  and  hin- 
ders you  from  seeing  accurately.  You  have  not  followed  my 
advice,  Reine ;  you  have  made  too  great  bonfires,  have  you 
not?  Poor  little  child,  come  to  see  me,  and  we  will  talk 
over  together  what  is  in  your  mind. 

I  replied  to  him, — 

MONSIEUR  LE  CURE,  —  Imagination  is  a  fool ;  life  is  a  thing  of 
shreds  and  patches,  and  the  world  an  old  rag,  dazzling  enough 
when  seen  from  afar,  but  good  only  at  best  to  hang  in  a 
cherry-tree  to  frighten  the  birds.  I  should  like  to  enter  La 
Trappe,  my  dear  cure  !  If  I  were  sure  that  I  should  be 
allowed  to  waltz  from  time  to  time  with  charming  men  such 
as  I  know,  I  should  certainly  take  refuge  there  and  bury  my 
youth  and  beauty;  but  I  believe  that  kind  of  amusement  is 
not  allowed  under  the  rules.  Advise  me  on  this  point,  Mon- 
sieur le  Cure",  and  make  up  your  mind  that  you  are  simply  an 
optimist  in  pretending  that  happiness  is  real  and  will  fall  to 
my  lot.  You  lead  the  life  of  a  rat  in  a  cheese.  I  do  not  mean 
that  you  are  selfish;  but  you  do  not  know  the  catastrophes 
that  can  overtake  those  who  live  in  the  world.  I  have  no 
more  illusions,  my  cure".  I  am  a  little  old  woman,  stunted, 
shrunken,  and  shrivelled,  —  mentally,  I  mean,  because  I  am 
prettier  than  ever, —  a  little  old  woman,  who  no  longer  believes 
in  anything  or  hopes  for  anything,  and  who  says  to  herself  that 


2OO  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

the  world  is  very  stupid  to  go  on  with  its  revolutions  when  her 
joys  and  dreams  are  dissipated,  pulverized,  and  reduced  to 
imperceptible  atoms.  My  inner  man,  if  one  could  strip  off  its 
carnal  covering,  —  which  deceives  the  observer's  eye,  I  admit, 
—  my  inner  man,  I  say,  is  nothing  but  a  skeleton,  a  dead  tree, 
completely  dead,  without  sap,  and  leafless,  and  holding  toward 
heaven  its  great  rigid,  emaciated  arms.  Can  the  mind  de- 
stroy the  body,  Monsieur  le  Cure1  ?  I  tremble  at  the  thought. 
To  have  no  illusions  left  at  sixteen,  is  not  that  terrible  ? 
Au  revoir,  my  old  cure. 

Two  days  after  sending  this  letter,  which  ought 
to  have  given  the  cur6  a  sufficiently  melancholy  idea 
of  my  state  of  mind,  my  uncle  decided  that  we  should 
go  to  spend  an  afternoon  at  Mont  St.  Michel.  That 
day  there  was  something  sinister  in  the  air;  I  felt  it. 
The  night  before,  the  commandant  and  Monsieur 
de  Pavol  had  had  a  long  and  private  interview. 
Paul  seemed  uneasy  and  nervous,  and  my  cousin 
thoughtful. 

My  uncle  and  Juno,  who  were  devoted  to  Mont 
St.  Michel,  did  me  the  honours  of  the  place  with 
complacence;  but  architecture  interested  me  very 
little,  and  besides,  I  saw  everything  through  the  dark 
veil  of  a  perfectly  killing  temper. 

"  How  tiring  it  is  to  climb  all  these  steps !  "  I  said, 
whining  at  each  one. 

"  More  than  six  hundred  to  scale  to  reach  the  top, 
my  cousin." 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  201 

"I  want  to  stop,  then." 

"Come,  my  niece,  what  the  deuce,  you  haven't 
the  gout  ? " 

And  as  he  climbed  the  steps  trodden  by  so  many 
generations,  my  uncle  recited  to  me  the  history  of 
the  mount  and  the  incident  of  Montgomery. 

But  how  did  it  concern  me, — this  Montgomery,  these 
ramparts,  this  marvellous  abbey,  these  mighty  halls, 
these  numberless  souvenirs  which  have  slept  there  for 
centuries?  I  should  have  taken  good  care  not  to 
awaken  them,  for  I  was  a  hundred  times  more  inter- 
ested in  watching  the  face  of  the  big  fellow  who  was 
so  attentive  and  so  thoughtful  for  Blanche,  and  never 
considered  me  at  all. 

What  a  fool  I  was  not  to  have  seen  his  love  sooner! 
He  went  into  ecstasies  over  the  smallest  stone  to 
please  her;  and  from  time  to  time  I  cast  some 
black  looks  at  him,  which  he  did  not  even  deign  to 
notice. 

"  Ah,  here  we  are  in  the  salle  des  chevaliers.  Come, 
Reine,  what  have  you  to  say  to  this  ? " 

"I  say,  Uncle,  that  if  the  chevaliers  were  here, 
the  hall  would  be  charming." 

"You  don't  find  it  so  in  itself?  " 

"Not  in  the  least.  I  see  huge  fireplaces  and  col- 
umns with  little  designs  carved  at  top;  but  without 
the  chevaliers  whose  heads  one  might  perhaps  turn 
a  little  —  pooh!  it  all  amounts  to  nothing." 


2O2  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"I  had  never  thought  of  that  way  of  looking  at 
feudal  architecture,"  answered  my  uncle,  laughing. 

We  went  through  dark  passages  which  frightened 
me. 

"We  are  going  to  break  our  necks,"  I  groaned, 
clinging  tightly  to  the  commandant's  arm,  while  Paul 
offered  his  to  Blanche. 

"You  are  in  trouble,  little  Reine?"  said  the  com- 
mandant to  me,  in  a  very  low  tone. 

"You  speak  like  my  cure,"  I  answered,  greatly 
moved. 

"  Come,  do  you  want  to  confide  in  me  ? " 

"I  have  no  trouble,"  I  answered  chokingly,  "and 
I  have  no  confidence  in  any  one.  Suzon  told  me 
that  men  were  good  for  nothing,  and  I  am  of  Suzon 's 
opinion! " 

"  Oh,  oh !  "  said  the  commandant,  watching  me  with 
so  kindly  an  air  that  I  was  afraid  of   breaking  into  ' 
sobs ;  "  such  misanthropy  in  one  so  young ! " 

I  did  not  answer;  and  as  we  were  reaching  a  sort 
of  long  terrace,  I  made  my  escape  and  ran  to  hide 
behind  an  enormous  row  of  columns.  I  leaned  my 
head  on  one  of  the  stones,  many  hundreds  of  years 
old,  and  wept. 

"Ah,"  I  thought,  " how  right  my  cure  was  in  tell- 
ing me  a  long  time,  a  very  long  time,  ago,  that  one 
does  not  argue  with  life,  one  submits.  All  my  logic 
is  good  for  nothing  under  these  circumstances.  How 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  203 

miserable  it  is, —  mon  Dicu!  how  miserable  it  is  to  see 
one's  self  treated  as  a  little  girl  of  no  consequence!  " 

And  through  my  tears  I  looked  at  those  famous 
sands,  which  seemed  to  me  dreary,  at  the  pile  whose 
height  oppressed  and  made  me  dizzy;  but  without 
knowing  why,  I  felt  a  kind  of  relief  in  that  strange 
affinity  of  Nature,  which  seemed  sad  in  accord  with 
my  own  feelings,  and  in  the  contemplation  of  those 
great  walls  which  threw  their  melancholy  shadows 
across  the  earth  and  the  past. 

When  we  were  in  the  train  on  our  way  home,  my 
uncle  said  to  me,— 

"Well,  Reine,  taken  all  together,  what  is  your  feel- 
ing about  Mont  St.  Michel?" 

"  I  think,  Uncle,  that  one  would  die  of  fear  there, 
and  would  catch  the  rheumatism." 

As  we   drove  along  the  route  which  led  from  the 

station  at  V to  Pavol,  I  reflected  that  few  things 

are  stable  here  below.  It  was  hardly  three  months 
since  I  passed  over  the  same  road,  full  of  happy 
dreams,  in  an  intoxication  of  joyous  thoughts  about 
that  future  which  I  believed  so  beautiful,  and  now 
the  way  seemed  strewn  with  the  debris  of  my 
happiness. 

It  was  quite  late  when  we  reached  the  chateau; 
nevertheless,  my  uncle  took  Blanche  into  his  study, 
saying  that  he  wished  that  very  evening  to  have  a 
serious  talk  with  her. 


2O4  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

I  went  to  bed  weeping  with  all  my  heart,  and  with 
the  conviction  that  the  sword  of  Damocles  was  hang- 
ing over  my  head. 

For  a  long  time  Juno  had  been  very  friendly  with 
me.  Every  morning  she  would  come  and  sit  on  my 
bed,  and  we  would  talk  indefinitely.  The  next  day 
about  seven  o'clock  she  came  into  my  room,  with  a 
calm  and  tranquil  step,  and  that  charming  smile  which 
transfigured  her  haughty  face,  and  which  perhaps  I 
alone  knew  well. 

"Reine,"  she  said  to  me  suddenly,  "Paul  has  pro- 
posed for  me." 

The  thread  was  broken,  and  the  sword  of  Damocles 
fell  on  my  breast.  How  lacking  in  common-sense  was 
that  king  to  hang  so  heavy  a  thing  by  a  simple 
thread!  Does  not  history  call  it  a  hair?  It  is  very 
likely. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  I  was  expecting  this  revela- 
tion; but  so  long  as  a  fact  is  not  proved  and  accom- 
plished, where  is  the  human  being  who  does  not 
cherish  a  little  hope  at  the  bottom  of  her  heart?  I 
became  very  pale,  so  pale  that  Blanche  noticed  it, 
although  the  room  was  darkened. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Reine?     Are  you  ill?  " 

"A  cramp,"  I  murmured  feebly. 

"I  will  go  and  get  the  ether,"  she  exclaimed,  jump- 
ing up  quickly. 

"No,  no,"  I  answered,  making  a  violent  effort    to 


My   Uncle  and  My  Ciir'e.  205 

recover  my  pride,  which  was  vanishing  into  thin  air; 
"it  is  over,  Blanche,  entirely  over." 

"Have  you  had  this  trouble  often,  Reine?  " 

"No,  only  occasionally.  It  is  nothing;  don't  say 
anything  more  about  it." 

Blanche  passed  her  hand  across  her  forehead,  like 
one  who  tries  to  drive  away  an  intrusive  thought; 
but  I  resumed  the  conversation  in  so  steady  a  voice 
that  she  seemed  relieved  of  her  anxiety. 

"Well,  Juno,  what  do  you  intend  to  do?  " 

"My  father  says  the  marriage  would  meet  all  his 
views,  Reine." 

"Would  you  like  it?" 

"The  marriage  would  suit  me  evidently;  for  all 
considerations  favour  it;  only  I  do  not  love  Paul 
except  as  a  cousin." 

"What  fault  do  you  find  in  him?" 

"I  find  no  fault,  except  that  he  does  not  please 
me  enough.  He  is  a  capital  fellow,  but  I  do  not 
love  that  kind  of  man.  In  the  first  place,  he 
is  not  handsome  enough;  then  that  abnormal  appe- 
tite of  his  is  not  poetical,  you  will  agree  to 
that." 

"But  it  is  perfectly  logical  to  eat  when  one  is 
hungry,"  I  answered,  keeping  back  my  tears. 

"What  would  you  have?  I  think  that  we  should 
not  get  on  well  together.  " 

"Are  you  going  to  refuse  him,  then,  Juno?  " 


206  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"  I  have  asked  a  month  to  consider  it,  little  Reine. 
I  am  very  perplexed,  for  I  dread  to  disappoint  my 
father.  Besides,  from  certain  points  of  view  the 
match  would  be  all  I  could  wish;  and  lastly,  the 
man  is  thoroughly  estimable." 

"But  if  you  do  not  love  him,  Blanche?  " 

"My  father  holds  that  I  will  love  him  later,  and 
for  that  matter  that  love,  so  called,  is  not  necessary 
for  marriage  and  happiness  in  a  home." 

"How  can  you  believe  a  thing  like  that?"  I  said, 
springing  up  with  indignation.  "  My  uncle  really  has 
abominable  opinions!" 

But  Blanche  answered  tranquilly  that  her  father 
was  full  of  good  sense;  that  she  had  often  noticed 
that  he  was  seldom  deceived  in  his  judgments,  and 
that  she  was  disposed  to  listen  to  him. 

"Does  Paul  love  you  very  much,  Juno?"  I  mur- 
mured under  my  breath. 

"Yes,  and  has  for  some  time." 

"  Did  you  know  it  ?  " 

"Of  course;  a  woman  always  knows  such  things. 
And  you, —  did  you  not  see  it?" 

"Yes  —  a  little,"  I  answered,  sending  a  backward 
glance  full  of  melancholy  at  my  stupidity. 

Blanche  left  me  after  explaining  that  Paul  had 
delayed  asking  her  hand  because  he  was  afraid  of 
being  refused. 

It  was  exactly  as  I   thought;   and    I    dressed    my- 


My  Uncle  and  My  Cure.  207 

self  feverishly,  thinking  that  under  her  father's  in- 
fluence she  would  end  by  giving  her  consent. 

In  her  place,  I  should  have  said  yes  in  a  second, 
and  a  fortnight  after  I  should  have  been  married. 

Alas!  it  was  the  end  of  my  dreams;. and  I  fell  into 
a  deep  depression. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 


IT  was  arranged  that  Paul  should  not  come  to 
Pavol  for  some  time,  and  though  the  thing 
appeared  to  me  incredible  and  unheard  of,  from  the 
day  when  she  ceased  to  see  him  Blanche  seemed  as 
if  she  had  nearly  made  up  her  mind  to  marry  him. 
We  talked  of  him  together  constantly;  we  even  dis- 
cussed wedding  dresses;  and  I  showed  a  stoic  resig- 
nation worthy  of  the  men  of  antiquity. 

But  this  resignation  was  only  on  the  surface. 

My  despondency  increased ;  my  eyes  had  black  cir- 
cles; and  I  had  reached  the  point  of  saying  to  myself 
that,  life  being  insupportable  away  from  the  man  I 
loved,  the  simplest  thing  to  do  was  to  take  my  de- 
parture to  the  other  world. 

This  plan  was  obviously  a  very  painful  one,  but  I 
clung  to  it  eagerly.  I  thought  over  it ;  I  cherished  it 
with  an  almost  morbid  delight.  Yet  I  swear  on  my 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  209 

honour  that  I  never  had  any  idea  of  suffocating  my- 
self or  of  swallowing  poison, —  methods  of  suicide  so 
dear  to  those  of  our  clay.  But  having  read,  in  I 
do  not  know  what  book,  that  a  young  girl  had  died 
of  grief  from  an  unhappy  love-affair,  I  decided  that 
I  would  follow  her  example. 

My  course  of  action  decided  on,  and  my  ill  looks 
confirming  my  lugubrious  thoughts,  I  considered  that 
it  was  polite  and  proper  to  inform  the  cure,  and  that, 
indeed,  I  could  not  die  without  pressing  his  hand. 

This  being  determined  on,  I  entered  my  uncle's 
study  one  morning  and  begged  him  to  let  me  go  to 
Buisson. 

"  It  would  be  better  to  ask  the  cure  to  come  here, 
Reine. " 

"He  could  not,  Uncle;  he  never  has  a  sou  in  his 
pocket. " 

"It  will  not  be  very  enlivening  for  me  to  take  you 
there,  my  niece." 

"Do  not  come,  Uncle,  I  beg;  you  would  be  dread- 
fully in  the  way.  I  want  to  go  alone  with  the  old 
housekeeper,  if  you  will  let  me." 

"  Do  as  you  wish.  My  carriage  shall  take  you  to 
C ,  where  it  will  be  easy  to  find  some  convey- 
ance to  carry  you  to  Buisson.  When  shall  you  go  ?  " 

"  To-morrow  morning,  early,  Uncle ;  I  want  to  sur- 
prise the  cure,  and  I  will  sleep  at  the  presbytire. " 

"Very  well;  so  be  it.  I  will  send  the  carriage  for 

14 


2io  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

you  in  a  couple  of  days ;  be  at  C day  after  to- 
morrow about  three." 

He  watched  me  closely  under  his  heavy  eyebrows, 
rubbing  his  chin  thoughtfully. 

"Are  you  ill,  Reine?  " 

"No,  Uncle." 

"Little  niece,"  he  said,  drawing  me  to  him,  "I  have 
almost  come  to  hope  that  my  plans  shall  not  succeed. " 

I  looked  at  him,  thoroughly  astonished,  because  I 
had  always  firmly  believed  that  he  had  seen  nothing. 

I  answered  him  very  coolly  that  I  did  not  know  what 
he  meant ;  that  I  was  very  happy,  and  that  I  would  pray 
that  all  his  plans  might  succeed.  He  embraced  me 
affectionately,  and  dismissed  me. 

I  set  out,  then,  the  next  morning  without  Blanche, 
who  wished  to  go  with  me. 

On  the  way  I  thought  over  my  uncle's  words. 

"He  knows  all,"  I  said  to  myself.  " Mon  Dicu! 
how  blind  I  was  in  my  assumptions  !  But  even  though 
Juno's  marriage  should  not  take  place,  what  differ- 
ence could  that  make  to  me,  since  Paul  is  in  love 
with  her?  He  could  not  love  another  person  now.  I 
don't  understand  my  uncle." 

I  did  not  believe  now,  any  more  than  before,  that 
one  could  love  several  women.  Judging  from  my 
own  feelings,  I  said  to  myself  that  a  man  could  not 
love  twice  in  his  life  without  presenting  to  the  world 
a  most  astonishing  phenomenon. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  2 1 1 

Having  thus  regulated  the  heart-throbs  of  bearded 
humanity,  my  thoughts  took  another  direction,  and 
I  was  filled  with  delight  at  the  idea  of  seeing  my 
cure.  I  resolved  to  throw  myself  on  his  neck,  were 
it  only  to  show  my  independence  and  my  contempt 
for  conventionalities. 

Having  reached  the  presbytere,  I  entered,  not  by  the 
gate,  but  through  a  hole  in  the  hedge  which  I  had 
known  from  time  immemorial,  and  advanced  on  tip- 
toe toward  the  window  of  the  parlour,  where  the  cure 
ought  to  be  just  about  breakfasting.  The  window  was 
very  low;  but  I  was  so  small  that  to  look  into  the 
room  I  had  to  climb  on  a  log  which  had  been  rolled 
against  the  wall  for  a  seat. 

I  lifted  my  head  cautiously  through  the  ivy,  which 
made  a  leafy  frame  to  the  casement,  and  I  saw  my 
cure. 

He  was  at  the  table,  and  was  eating  dejectedly. 
His  cheeks  had  lost  some  of  their  colour  and  their 
roundness;  his  thick  white  hair  no  longer  stood  on 
end,  as  of  old,  but  lay  flat  on  his  head  in  an  inex- 
pressibly melancholy  fashion. 

"  Ah,   my  poor,  good  cure !  " 

I  leaped  down  from  the  log;  I  rushed  into  the 
presbytere,  losing  my  hat  as  I  went,  and  burst  into 
the  parlour  like  a  bomb. 

The  cure"  rose  with  a  start.  His  kindly  and  good 
face  shone  with  joy  on  seeing  me;  and  it  was  not  to 


212  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

break  the  traditions  of  etiquette,  but  in  an  outburst 
of  genuine  affection  and  of  strong  feeling,  that  I 
threw  myself  into  his  arms  and  wept  a  long  time  on 
his  shoulder.  I  know  perfectly  that  nothing  in  the 
world  is  more  contrary  to  etiquette  than  to  weep 
on  the  shoulder  of  a  cure;  that  my  uncle,  Juno,  and 
all  the  dowagers  of  the  land,  in  spite  of  my  ancestors, 
would  have  veiled  their  faces  before  a  sight  so  scan- 
dalous. But  I  had  been  too  short  a  time  at  the 
school  of  self-control  to  lose  my  spontaneity.  Be- 
sides, I  am  positive  that  only  idiots  and  unnatural 
and  heartless  people  believe  in  never  sacrificing  the 
proprieties  to  real  and  deep  feeling. 

"Life  is  an  old  rag,  my  cure, —  a  miserable  old 
rag,"  I  said,  sobbing. 

"  Have  we  come  to  that,  dear  little  daughter,  have 
we  really  come  to  that?  No,  no;  it  is  not  possible! " 

And  the  poor  cur6,  who  smiled  and  wept  at  the  same 
time,  looked  at  me  affectionately,  stroked  my  head 
with  his  hand,  and  spoke  to  me  as  to  a  little  wounded 
bird,  whose  broken  wing  he  would  have  cured  by  ca- 
resses and  kind  words. 

"Come,  Reine,  come;  calm  yourself  a  little,  my 
dear  child,"  he  said,  raising  me  gently. 

"You  are  right,"  I  answered,  thrusting  my  hand- 
kerchief into  the  bottom  of  my  pocket.  "  For  three 
months  I  have  had  self-control  preached  to  me;  and 
I  have  not  profited  in  the  least  by  the  lessons,  as 


My  Uncle  and  My  Cure.  215 

you  see.  Let  us  have  something  to  eat,  Monsieur 
le  Cure." 

I  took  off  my  gloves  and  my  cloak ;  and  in  one  of 
those  reversions  of  feeling  to  which  I  had  been  sub- 
ject for  some  time,  I  began  to  laugh,  and  established 
myself  joyfully  at  the  table. 

"We  will  talk  when  we  have  eaten,  my  dear  cure; 
lam  dead  with  hunger!" 

"But  I  have  almost  nothing  to  give  you." 

" Here  are  beans, —  I  adore  beans!  and  home-made 
bread, —  it's  delicious!" 

"  But  you  did  not  come  alone,  Reine  ?  " 

"  Sure  enough ;  the  housekeeper  is  still  sitting  in 
the  carriage  behind  the  church.  Send  for  her,  Mon- 
sieur le  Cure,  and  tell  them  to  pick  up  my  hat,  which 
is  walking  about  the  garden." 

The  good  cure"  went  to  give  the  orders,  and  came 
back  and  sat  opposite  me.  While  I  ate  with  a  capi- 
tal appetite,  notwithstanding  my  consumption  and  my 
troubles,  he  forgot  all  about  his  breakfast,  and  watched 
me  with  an  admiration  which  he  strove  in  vain  to 
hide. 

"You  find  me  prettier,  do  you  not,  Monsieur  le 
Cure?" 

"Yes— a  little,  Reine." 

"Ah,  my  cure,  if  I  were  going  to  confess,  what 
great  sins  I  should  have  to  tell  you  of!  They  are  no 
longer  the  little  sins  of  old,  which  you  knew  so  well. " 


216  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

And  without  ceasing  to  eat,  I  told  him  of  all  my 
vain  delights,  my  impressions,  my  dresses,  my  new 
ideas.  He  laughed,  took  snuff  without  stopping,  with 
his  old  jocund  air,  and  looked  at  me  without  in  the 
least  thinking  of  finding  fault. 

"Am  I  not  on  the  road  to  perdition,  Monsieur  le 
Cure?" 

"  I  do  not  think  so,  my  good  little  child.  One  must 
be  young  when  one  is  young." 

"  Young,  my  poor  cure !  If  you  could  see  into  the 
bottom  of  my  heart!  I  wrote  you  that  I  was  nothing 
but  a  skeleton,  and  it  is  really  true." 

"You  do  not  look  it,  at  all  events." 

"We  will  talk  together  in  a  moment,  Monsieur  le 
Cure,  and  you  will  see ! " 

When  I  had  changed  my  seat,  the  servant  cleared 
the  table,  made  a  magnificent  fire,  and  we  took  our 
places,  each  in  a  chimney-corner. 

"Come,  Reine,  let  us  talk  seriously  now.  What 
have  you  to  tell  me  ? " 

I  stretched  out  my  little  foot  to  the  blaze,  and 
answered  quietly, — 

"  My  cure,  I  am  dying !  " 

The  cure",  a  little  startled,  shut  with  a  snap  the 
snuff-box,  in  which  he  was  about  to  introduce  the  ends 
of  his  fingers. 

"You  do  not  look  it,  my  dear  child." 

"What!  you  have  not  noticed  my  heavy  eyes,  my 
pale  lips? " 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  217 

"Not  at  all,  Reine;  your  lips  are  red,  and  your 
face  is  blooming  with  health.  But  of  what  are  you 
dying?" 

Before  answering,  I  looked  around  me,  reflecting 
that  I  was  going  to  pronounce  a  word  which  this 
modest  room  had  never  heard  uttered  within  its 
wretched  walls, — a  word  so  strange  that  the  old 
clock  without  a  spring,  which  stood  in  a  corner,  and 
the  pious  images  fastened  to  the  walls,  would  prob- 
ably fall  on  my  head  in  a  transport  of  surprise  and 
indignation. 

"Well,  Reine?" 

"  Well,  Monsieur  le  Cure1,  I  am  dying  of  love !  " 

The  clock,  the  images,  the  furniture,  preserved  their 
immobility;  and  the  cure  himself  gave  only  a  little 
jump. 

"I  was  sure  of  it,"  he  said,  running  his  hands 
through  his  hair,  which  had  resumed  the  bushy  ways 
of  happy  days, — "I  was  sure  of  it.  Your  imagina- 
tion has  played  tricks  with  you,  Reine." 

"It  is  not  a  question  of  the  imagination,  but  of 
the  heart,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  for  I  am  in  love." 

"Oh,  so  young!  such  a  child!" 

"  Is  that  any  reason  ?  I  repeat  that  I  am  dying  of 
love  for  Monsieur  de  Conprat." 

"Ah!  it  is  he,  then?" 

"Do  you  take  me  for  a  rattlebrain,  a  thoughtless 
creature,  my  cure?"  I  cried. 


218  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"But,  little  Reine,  instead  of  dying,  you  would  do 
better  to  marry  him." 

"  That  would  be  logical,  my  dear  cure",  very  logical, 
but,  unhappily.  I  do  not  please  him." 

This  assertion  seemed  to  him  so  extraordinary  that 
he  remained  petrified  for  some  seconds. 

"It  cannot  be  possible,"  he  exclaimed  in  a  tone  of 
such  conviction  that  I  could  not  keep  from  laughing. 

"  Not  only  does  he  not  love  me,  but  he  loves  some 
one  else;  he  is  infatuated  with  Blanche,  and  has  pro- 
posed for  her." 

I  recounted  what  had  been  taking  place  for  some 
time  at  Pavol, —  my  discoveries,  my  blindness,  and 
Juno's  indecision.  I  finished  the  account  with  hot 
tears,  for  my  disappointment  was  very  real. 

The  cure,  who  until  then  had  not  been  able  to 
make  up  his  mind  to  take  my  words  and  troubles 
seriously,  presented  the  picture  of  consternation.  He 
drew  his  chair  near  mine,  took  my  hand,  and  tried  to 
reason  with  me. 

"  Your  cousin  is  undecided ;  perhaps  the  marriage 
will  not  take  place." 

"What  difference  will  that  make,  since  he  is  in 
love?  One  cannot  love  twice." 

"Such  a  thing  has  been  seen,  my  little  child." 

"  I  cannot  believe  it ;  it  would  be  horrible.  I  am 
very  unhappy,  my  poor  cure." 

"  Have  you  spoken  to  your  uncle  ?  " 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  219 

"No;  but  he  has  divined  my  thoughts.  Besides, 
what  would  be  the  use?  He  could  not  force  Paul  to 
love  me  and  forget  his  daughter.  I  would  not  have 
him  know  of  my  love,  I  would  rather  die." 

A  long  silence  followed  this  manifestation  of  my 
pride.  We  looked  into  the  fire  like  two  good  little 
sorcerers  who  were  trying  to  read  the  secrets  of  the 
future  in  the  flames  and  the  glowing  embers. 

But  flames  and  embers  made  no  answer,  and  I  was 
weeping  silently,  when  the  cure  resumed,  with  a  half- 
smile, — 

"  He  does  not,  then,  resemble  either  Francis  I.  or 
Buckingham ! " 

"Ah,  Monsieur  le  Cure,"  I  answered  quickly,  "if 
Francis  I.  or  Buckingham  were  there,  they  would  not 
have  to  be  entreated  to  love  me,  and  I  should  be 
very  happy." 

"  Hum ! "  the  cur6  found  this  answer  unorthodox 
and  capable  of  unpleasant  interpretations. 

He  abandoned  at  once  a  subject  so  bristling  with 
snares,  and  preached  resignation. 

"  Consider,  Reine,  how  young  you  are.  This 
trial  will  pass,  and  you  have  a  long  life  before 
you." 

"  I  have  not  a  resigned  nature,  my  cure ;  learn  that. 
If  I  live,  I  shall  never  marry;  but  I  shall  not  live, —  I 
am  consumptive,  listen ! " 

And  I  tried  to  produce  a  hollow  cough. 


220  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"Don't  let  us  joke  on  that  subject,  Reine.  Dicu 
mcrci!  you  are  in  good  health." 

"Come,"  I  said,  rising,  "I  see  that  you  will  not 
believe  me.  Let  us  take  advantage  of  the  fine 
weather  and  the  few  moments  I  have  left  of  life  to 
go  to  Buisson,  Monsieur  le  CureV' 

We  set  out  briskly  for  my  old  home  under  a  pleas- 
ant November  sun  infinitely  less  sweet,  less  genial, 
than  the  affection  of  my  cure,  and  the  sight  of  his 
kindly  face  grown  all  rosy  since  my  coming.  I 
watched  with  delight  his  hair  fluttering  in  the  wind, 
his  elastic  step,  his  whole  figure,  stout  and  jocund, 
which  I  had  watched  so  often  through  the  hall  win- 
dow while  the  rain  whipped  the  panes  and  the  wind 
roared  and  whistled  through  the  dilapidated  doors 
of  the  old  house. 

After  a  visit  to  Perrine  and  Suzon,  I  went  through 
it  from  top  to  bottom.  Truly,  time  should  not  be 
measured  by  the  number  of  days  that  have  passed, 
but  by  the  vividness  and  the  number  of  events.  A 
very  few  weeks  before  I  had  left  this  old  ruin;  and 
if  some  one  had  told  me  that  many  years  had  passed 
over  my  head,  I  should  have  really  believed  them. 

I  dragged  the  cure  into  the  garden.  Poor  virgin 
forest!  it  recalled  unhappy  days,  yet  I  was  delighted 
to  go  all  over  it. 

And  then  the  remembrance  of  some  rapturous  hours 
came  into  my  head, —  a  remembrance  still  delightful 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  221 

to  me,  notwithstanding  the  bitterness  of  the  miscon- 
ceptions that  had  followed  a  moment  of  happiness. 

"Do  you  remember,  Monsieur  le  Cure"?"  I  said, 
pointing  out  the  cherry-tree  which  Paul  had  climbed. 

"Let  us  talk  of  something  else,  little  Reine. " 

"Is  it  possible,  my  dear  cure?  If  you  knew  how  I 
love  him!  He  has  no  faults,  I  assure  you!" 

Once  started  on  this  subject,  no  power,  human  or 
supernatural,  could  have  stopped  me,  the  more  that 
at  Pavol  I  was  obliged  to  hide  my  feelings.  I  talked 
so  long  that  the  unhappy  cure  was  entirely  dazed. 

We  passed  the  evening  in  conversing  and  arguing. 
The  cur6  employed  all  his  oratorical  skill  to  prove  to 
me  that  resignation  is  a  virtue  full  of  wisdom  and 
easy  of  acquirement. 

"My  cure,"  I  answered  seriously,  "you  do  not  know 
what  love  is." 

"Believe  me,  Reine,  with  a  little  effort  you  will 
forget  and  easily  overcome  this  trial.  You  are  so 
young! " 

So  young!  —  that  was  his  refrain.  Does  not  one 
suffer  at  sixteen  as  at  no  matter  what  age?  These 
old  people  are  astonishing! 

On  my  side  I  answered,  shaking  my  head,— 

"You  do  not  understand,  my  cure;  you  do  not 
understand !  " 

The  next  morning,  while  he  walked  with  me  in  his 
garden,  I  said  to  him,— 


222  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"Monsieur  le  Cure,  I  had  an  idea  last  night." 
"  Let  us  have  the  idea,  ma  petite. " 
"I  want  you  to  come  to  the  living  at  Pavol. " 
"One  cannot  take  another's  place,  Reine. " 
"  The  curate  of  Pavol  is  as  old  as  Herod,  Monsieur 
le  Cur6 ;  he  ages  fast,  and  I  watch  the  signs  of  weak- 
ness with  a  tender  solicitude.     Would  you  not  like 
to  succeed  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course ;  yet  I  should  be  sorry  to  leave  my 
parish.  Thirty-five  years  have  I  been  here,  and  I 
love  it  now." 

"  Now !  have  you  not  always  loved  it  ?  " 
"No,  indeed,  Reine;  you  know  how  dull  it  is. 
Perhaps  it  has  never  occurred  to  you  that  I  have 
been  young.  My  aspirations  were  not  exactly  like 
yours,  my  little  child;  but  I  should  have  loved  an 
active  life;  I  should  have  loved  to  see  and  to  hear 
things,  for  I  did  not  lack  intelligence,  and  I  desired 
the  intellectual  resources  which  I  have  never  had. 
Then,  before  you  came  into  my  life,  I  had  neither 
affection  nor  friendship  from  a  soul.  But  one  over- 
comes vexations  and  disappointments,  Reine,  when 
one  really  wishes.  I  was  very  happy  for  a  long 
time  before  you  left  Buisson;  I  had  forgotten  the 
dreary  and  evil  days  of  my  youth." 

The  good  cure  looked  before  him,  a  little  thought- 
fully ;  and  I,  who  had  never  imagined,  seeing  him  so 
light-hearted  and  contented,  that  he  had  suffered  in 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  223 

his  time,  was  touched  by  his  resignation  so  real,  so 
sweet,  and  so  free  from  rancour. 

"  You  are  a  saint,  my  cure ! "  I  said,  taking  his 
hand. 

"C/iutf  Don't  talk  nonsense,  dear  child!  I  have 
suffered  from  a  narrow  life;  but  that  is  the  lot,  you 
see,  of  all  my  brethren  who  have  a  young  and  active 
disposition.  I  have  spoken  of  this  to  make  you  un- 
derstand that  one  can  bear  everything,  that  one  can 
even  find  happiness  and  cheerfulness  when  trials 
have  passed,  if  one  bears  them  courageously." 

I  understood  him  perfectly,  but  the  cure  was  preach- 
ing in  the  desert.  I  was  too  young  not  to  be  very 
fixed  in  my  ideas,  and  I  naturally  said  to  myself  that 
in  the  way  of  troubles  nothing  can  compare  with  a 
disappointment  in  love. 

"  If  the  living  of  Pavol  is  vacant  some  day,  I  should 
be  happy  to  go  there,  Reine,  only  I  have  no  voice  in 
the  matter." 

"  Yes,  I  know  that ;  but  my  uncle  is  a  great  friend 
of  the  bishop.  He  will  arrange  it." 

The  cure  drove  me  back  to  C .  When  he  saw 

me  installed  in  my  uncle's  elegant  landau,  he  cried : 

"  How  happy  I  am  to  see  you  in  your  proper  place, 
Reine!  This  landau  makes  a  better  setting  for  you 
than  Jean's  cart !  " 

"You  will  soon  see  me  in  a  beautiful  chateau,"  I 
answered.  "  I  am  going  to  pray  the  saints  that  the 


224  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

cur6  of  Pavol  may  fly  away  to  heaven;  it  is  a  very 
charitable  wish,  because  he  is  old  and  ill.  You  will 
have  a  beautiful  church  and  a  pulpit,  Monsieur  le 
Cure, — a  real  high  pulpit!" 

The  horses  started,  and  I  leaned  over  the  door  to 
see  the  last  of  my  old  cure,  who  waved  me  adieus 
without  thinking  of  putting  on  his  hat,  for  a  bliss- 
ful and  joyous  hope  had  entered  his  heart. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 


''T^HIS   visit  to  the  cure   did  me  good  for  a   time 

-*-       only. 

The  salutary  effect  of  his  counsels  vanished  rapidly. 
I  fell  back  into  my  gloomy  fancies ;  and  my  uncle,  all 
the  while  inwardly  cursing  womankind,  nieces,  their 
obstinacy,  and  their  caprices,  spoke  of  taking  us  to 
Paris,  Blanche  and  me,  for  a  change  of  scene,  when 
most  happily  events  came  with  a  rush. 

A  few  days  after  this,  Monsieur  de  Pavol  received  a 
letter  from  a  friend,  who  asked  permission  to  bring 
to  the  chateau  one  of  his  cousins, —  a  Monsieur  de 
Kerveloch,  an  old  attach^  of  the  embassy. 

My  uncle  answered  promptly  that  he  would  be 
happy  to  receive  Monsieur  de  Kerveloch,  and  invited 
him  to  breakfast  without  suspecting  that  he  was  has- 
tening an  event  which,  while  it  destroyed  his  pet 
scheme,  would  restore  my  hopes  and  happiness. 

is 


226  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

The  next  day  but  one, —  I  have  good  reason  to 
always  remember  that  famous  day,  —  the  next  day  but 
one,  the  weather  was  atrocious. 

According  to  our  custom,  we  were  all  in  the  salon. 
Blanche,  thoughtful,  seated  near  the  fire,  answered 
Monsieur  de  Conprat  in  monosyllables. 

This  headstrong  lover,  not  being  able  to  bear  his 
exile,  had  reappeared  at  Pavol  forty-eight  hours  before. 
My  uncle  read  his  paper;  and  as  for  me,  I  had  taken 
refuge  in  a  window-recess. 

Now  I  worked  with  a  nervous  activity,  for  I  was 
devoted  to  needle-work;  now  I  watched  the  leaden 
sky,  and  the  rain  which  fell  without  stopping.  I 
heard  the  wind  roar, —  that  November  wind  which 
wails  in  such  melancholy  fashion, —  and  I  felt  tired 
and  sad  without  the  least  presentiment  of  happi- 
ness, although  at  that  very  moment  happiness  was 
coming  to  me  behind  a  fine  pair  of  fast-trotting 
horses. 

From  time  to  time  I  threw  a  stealthy  glance  of 
the  eye  at  Paul.  He  was  watching  Blanche  with  a 
look  which  made  me  want  to  strangle  him. 

"What  a  stupid  he  looks  like,"  I  said  to  myself, 
"with  his  staring,  sheepish  eyes  glued  on  her!  Yes; 
but  if  I  were  in  Blanche's  place,  and  he  looked  at 
me  in  the  same  way,  I  should  think  him  charming 
and  more  attractive  than  ever!  Such  is  human  stu- 
pidity and  inconsistency." 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  227 

And  I  drove  my  needle  with  such  fury  that  it 
broke  off  short. 

At  that  moment  we  heard  a  carriage  approach  the 
chateau.  My  uncle  folded  up  his  paper;  Juno  pricked 
up  her  ears,  saying,  "  Here  comes  some  one ; "  and  a 
few  seconds  after  my  uncle's  friend  and  his  attach^ 
of  the  embassy  appeared. 

I  do  not  know  why  in  my  mind  this  title  was 
inseparable  from  old  age  and  baldness.  Neverthe- 
less, not  only  was  Monsieur  de  Kerveloch  neither  old 
nor  bald,  but  with  the  exception  of  Francis  I.  as 
shown  in  his  portrait,  I  have  never  seen  a  man  of 
such  fine  physique. 

When  he  entered,  I  had  an  idea  that  he  had  matri- 
monial designs  in  his  handsome  head.  He  was  thirty 
years  old,  and  was  so  tall  that  beside  him  Paul 
seemed  transformed  into  a  pygmy;  his  expression  was 
intelligent,  haughty,  and  such  that  no  one  at  first 
sight,  or  even  at  second  sight,  would  have  assigned 
him  the  aureole  of  a  saint.  Reserved,  but  courteous 
to  a  degree,  he  had  polished  manners,  and  an  ease 
which  captivated  Blanche  on  the  spot. 

Monsieur  de  Kerveloch  watched  her  with  admira- 
tion; and  when  he  rose  to  go  away,  and  stood  before 
her,  I  felt  with  a  secret  joy  that  a  better-assorted 
couple  could  not  be  seen. 

I  think  each  one  had  the  same  idea,  for  Paul  left 
us  with  a  gloomy  face.  Juno  played  over  Weber's 


228  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

Last  Thought,  or  something  equally  tiresome,  ten 
times  in  succession, —  a  proof  with  her  of  great  absent- 
mindedness;  while  my  uncle  watched  each  of  us  with 
a  thoughtful  and  satirical  air. 

Monsieur  de  Kerveloch  came  to  breakfast  the  next 
day  at  Pavol ;  three  days  after,  he  proposed  for  Blanche ; 
and  two  weeks  later  I  wrote  to  the  cure, — 

MY  DEAR  CUR£,  —  Man  is  an  inconstant,  changeable,  capri- 
cious little  animal,  a  weathercock  which  veers  to  all  the  whims 
of  imagination  and  circumstance.  When  I  say  man,  I  mean 
to  speak  of  humanity  in  general,  because  I  am  to-day  the 
little  animal  in  question. 

I  am  in  despair  no  longer.  I  have  no  more  desire  to  die, 
my  cure.  I  find  that  the  sun  has  recovered  its  brilliancy ;  that 
the  future  holds  many  pleasures  for  me ;  that  the  universe  is 
wise  in  existing,  and  that  death  is  the  most  stupid  invention 
of  the  Creator. 

Blanche  is  to  marry,  Monsieur  le  Cure  !  Blanche  is  to 
marry  the  Comte  de  Kerveloch  !  Dieu  !  how  well  they  suit 
each  other  !  And  it  was  only  by  a  straw,  a  hair's  breadth,  by 
nothing  at  all,  that  she  missed  accepting  Monsieur  de  Conprat, 
—  a  man  she  did  not  love,  and  whom  she  found  fault  with  for 
eating  too  much.  Eating  too  much,  —  it  is  absurd,  such  an 
idea !  as  if  it  were  not  perfectly  rational  to  eat  heartily  when 
one  has  a  good  appetite.  If  you  ask  me  how  matters  have 
changed  so  suddenly  at  Pavol,  I  can  hardly  answer  you.  I  am 
entirely  upset ;  and  all  that  I  can  tell  you  is  that  one  beautiful 
day,  one  superb  day,  —  no,  it  was  raining  in  torrents,  but  that 
is  no  matter,  —  one  day,  I  say,  Monsieur  de  Kerveloch  came 
here,  brought  by  a  friend  of  my  uncle.  When  I  saw  him  enter, 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  229 

I  fancied  that  he  had  some  ulterior  motive,  fancied  also  that  he 
would  please  Blanche,  because  he  has  all  the  qualities  she 
dreams  of  in  a  husband.  Monsieur  de  Kerveloch  looked  at 
her  as  a  man  who  knows  how  to  appreciate  beauty ;  and  some 
days  after  he  solicited  the  honour  of  her  hand,  as  my  uncle 
and  etiquette  express  it. 

Juno  shook  off  her  usual  nonchalance  to  declare  with 
warmth  that  no  suitor  had  ever  pleased  her  as  much,  and  that 
she  had  fully  decided  to  refuse  Monsieur  de  Conprat. 

That  is  the  story,  my  dear  cure\  It  is  plain,  simple, 
clear ;  and  since  then  my  fancies  soar  as  in  the  past.  I  throw 
the  reins  on  the  neck  of  my  imagination  and  let  it  canter  and 
canter  until  it  can  go  no  longer ;  and  I  dance  in  my  room 
when  I  am  all  alone.  Ah,  my  dear  cure",  I  do  not  know  why 
I  love  you  to-day  ten  times  more  than  usual.  Your  good  face 
seems  to  me  more  smiling  than  ever,  your  affection  more  touch- 
ing, more  delightful,  your  beautiful  white  hair  more  charming. 

This  morning  I  looked  at  the  leafless  trees,  which  seemed 
to  me  fresh  and  green,  at  the  gray  sky,  which  seemed  quite 
blue,  and  all  at  once  I  made  friends  with  my  imagination. 
I  shall  repent  all  my  life  of  having  treated  it  so  villanously  the 
other  day.  It  is  a  fairy,  my  dear  cure,  —  a  fairy  full  of  charm, 
of  power,  of  poetry,  which,  touching  the  ugliest  things  with 
its  magic  wand,  clothes  them  with  its  own  beauty. 

What  a  changeable  little  being  it  is  !  I  cannot  get  over  it. 
Why  cherish  hope  and  joy?  Why  make  one's  self  wretched 
when  things  arrange  themselves  so  well  without  one's  inter- 
ference ?  But  why  am  I  so  light-hearted  when  nothing  is  yet  de- 
cided as  to  my  future,  and  when  I  remember  that  it  is  not  pos- 
sible to  love  twice  in  the  course  of  one's  life.  What  a  chaos, 
my  cure1  !  The  world  is  full  of  mysteries,  and  the  soul  is  a 


230  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

fathomless  abyss.  I  believe  that  some  one,  I  do  not  know 
where,  has  already  uttered  this  thought,  perhaps  even  I  read  it 
no  later  than  yesterday,  but  I  was  perfectly  able  to  say  as  much. 

Nevertheless,  when  my  excitement  subsides,  my  joyful 
hopes  are  seized  with  an  irresistible  panic ;  they  escape,  fly 
away,  and  disappear,  and  I  often  cannot  call  them  back.  Be- 
cause, after  all,  he  loves  her,  Monsieur  le  Cure ;  he  loves  her, 
—  a  wretched  word  used  as  I  use  it  now. 

You  said  to  me  that  it  was  not  unusual  to  be  in  love  twice 
in  a  lifetime,  my  cure  ;  but  are  you  sure  ?  Are  you  perfectly 
certain  ?  Love  attracts  love,  they  say ;  if  he  knew  my  secret, 
would  he,  perhaps,  love  me?  You,  who  are  a  man  of  sense, 
Monsieur  le  Cure1,  do  you  not  find  the  proprieties  idiotic?  An 
avowal  on  my  part  would  probably  be  enough  to  secure  the 
happiness  of  my  whole  life ;  and  here  are  these  rules,  invented 
by  some  one  without  judgment,  which  prevent  my  following 
my  inclination  to  reveal  my  secret  thoughts  and  tell  my  love 
to  him  I  love.  To  speak  the  truth,  something,  I  know  not 
what,  at  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  compels  me  as  strongly  to  be 
silent  and  —  did  I  not  say  to  you  that  the  soul  was  a  fathom- 
less abyss  !  My  dear  cure',  I  see  a  procession  of  gloomy 
fancies  approaching.  How  ill-balanced  man  is  ! 

There  is  no  doubt  that  circumstances  modify  opinions. 
My  uncle  goes  so  far  as  to  assert  that  fools  only  never  change 
their  minds ;  but  is  it  the  same  with  the  heart  as  the  mind? 

Enlighten  me,  my  old  cure\ 

When  a  thing  was  decided  on,  Monsieur  de  Pavol 
never  liked  to  dilly-dally  in  carrying  it  out.  In  ac- 
cordance with  this  principle  he  decided  that  Blanche's 
marriage  should  take  place  January  15. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Ciir'e.  231 

His  misapprehension  had  been  a  rude  shock;  but 
he  was  the  less  disposed  to  oppose  his  daughter 
because  he  knew  of  my  love,  and  because  he  was 
generous,  upright,  intelligent,  and  incapable  of  per- 
sisting in  any  pet  project  when  the  happiness  of 
his  niece  was  at  stake. 

As  to  Paul,  he  bore  his  ill-fortune  bravely.  Like 
the  little  creature  who  loved  him  so  tenderly  with- 
out his  suspecting  it,  he  had  not  the  smallest  par- 
ticle of  angry  feeling.  I  certify  that  he  never  had 
a  desire  to  poison  his  rival  or  gallantly  cut  his  throat 
in  some  lonely  and  poetic  nook  in  the  woods. 

When  he  knew  that  his  hopes  were  ruined,  he  came  to 
see  us  with  the  commandant.  He  held  out  his  hand 
to  Blanche,  saying  in  a  generous  and  natural  tone,— 

"Cousin,  I  wish  only  your  happiness,  and  I  hope 
we  shall  continue  good  friends." 

But  this  way  of  acting  the  comedy  hero  did  not  pre- 
vent his  being  greatly  disappointed.  His  visits  to 
Pavol  became  very  rare;  and  when  I  saw  him,  I 
thought  him  changed  mentally  and  physically. 

Then  I  wept  anew  in  secret,  feeling  very  angry  at 
him.  It  would  have  been  so  logical  to  love  me,  so  ra- 
tional to  see  that  our  two  characters  were  prodigiously 
alike,  and  that  I  loved  him  to  distraction.  Truly  if 
men  were  always  logical,  the  world  would  be  no  worse, 
and  their  dispositions  would  be  much  better. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 


'THHE  1 5th  of  January  was  beautiful  and  very  cold. 
The  fields,  covered  with  hoar-frost,  looked 
like  fairyland.  Juno,  though  very  pale,  was  so 
beautiful  in  her  white  dress  that  I  could  not  keep 
my  eyes  off  her.  She  seemed  to  me  like  the  cold 
and  magnificent  world  without,  which,  robed  in  daz- 
zling white,  was  in  keeping  with  her  beauty. 

After  the  breakfast  she  went  to  her  room  to  change 
her  dress.  She  came  down  greatly  agitated ;  we  kissed 
her  tearfully ;  and  she  was  off  for  Italy. 

"  The  happy  moment,  the  happy  moment !  "  I  said 
to  myself. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  233 

My  many  emotions  had  tired  me  out,  and  I  wanted 
to  be  alone.  So  leaving  my  uncle  to  dispose  of 
his  guests  as  he  best  could,  I  caught  up  a  fur  cloak 
and  set  out  for  a  spot  in  the  park  of  which  I  was 
especially  fond. 

The  park  was  crossed  by  a  swift  and  narrow  stream ; 
at  a  certain  part  of  its  course  it  broadened  out  and 
formed  a  cascade  which  some  skilfully  arranged  rocks 
made  high  and  picturesque.  A  little  way  from  the 
cascade  a  tree  had  fallen,  its  foot  on  one  side  of 
the  stream,  its  top  on  the  other.  It  had  been  for- 
gotten as  it  lay;  and  when,  the  next  spring,  my  uncle 
wanted  to  take  it  away,  he  saw  that  it  was  alive 
by  the  vigorous  branches  which  were  shooting  out 
all  along  its  trunk.  He  had  another  tree  thrown 
beside  it,  intertwined  their  branches,  planted  con- 
volvulus, which  was  trained  over  the  two,  and  in 
course  of  time  branches  and  convolvulus  became 
so  thick  that  my  uncle  had  an  original  rustic  bridge 
which  could  be  crossed  without  the  least  danger 
of  any  one's  getting  entangled  in  the  branches  and 
falling  into  the  water. 

It  was  this  lonely  spot,  at  some  distance  from 
the  chateau,  which  I  had  chosen  as  the  scene  of 
my  meditations.  I  stopped  near  the  frost-covered 
bridge  to  reflect  on  the  future  and  admire  the  enor- 
mous icicles  hanging  at  the  cascade  which  the  cold 
had  frozen  as  the  water  fell. 


234  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

I  do  not  know  how  long  I  was  meditating  thus 
without  noticing  the  cold  which  stung  my  face, 
when  I  saw  approaching  the  "object  of  my  affec- 
tion," as  Madame  Cottin  would  say. 

The  "object"  appeared  to  be  melancholy  and  in  a 
very  bad  humour;  with  a  cane  which  in  a  moment  of 
abstraction  he  had  stolen  from  my  uncle,  he  dealt 
energetic  blows  at  the  trees  which  came  in  his  way, 
and  the  white  dust  which  covered  them  was  scat- 
tered over  him. 

I  half  turned  about;  but  it  is  well  known  that 
women  have  eyes  in  the  backs  of  their  heads,  and 
I  did  not  miss  one  of  his  movements. 

When  he  came  near  he  crossed  his  arms,  looked 
at  the  motionless  cascade,  the  bridge,  the  trees,  but 
did  not  open  his  mouth.  Busy  with  a  little  fir  twig 
which  I  was  breaking  off,  I  held  my  breath,  watch- 
ing him  sideways  without  his  knowing  it. 

"  Cousin !  " 

"Cousin!" 

I  waited  some  seconds  for  him  to  conclude  his 
remarks;  but  finding  that  he  stopped  there,  I  con- 
descended to  turn  half  about  toward  the  speaker, 
to  encourage  him. 

He  scowled  and*  burst  out, — 

"  I  should  like  to  blow  my  brains  out !  " 

"Very  well,"  I  said  dryly;  "I  will  go  to  your 
funeral." 


My  Uncle  and  My    Cure.  235 

This  reply  surprised  him  so  much  that  he  dropped 
his  arms  and  stared  at  me. 

"You  would  not  keep  me  from  committing  suicide, 
Cousin? " 

"Certainly  not,"  I  answered  tranquilly.  "Why 
should  I  mix  myself  in  what  does  not  concern  me? 
I  love  liberty;  and  if  you  desire  to  quit  this  vale 
of  tears, —  eh,  mon  Dieu! — I  would  not  raise  a 
finger  to  stop  you.  Let  every  one  in  this  world  do 
as  he  pleases." 

With  that  I  set  about  considering  my  fir  twig 
again,  while  "my  object,"  disconcerted  by  the  lib- 
eral way  in  which  I  had  regarded  his  lugubrious 
plan,  had  a  somewhat  disconcerted  air. 

"I  thought  you  had  a  little  regard  for  me,  Made- 
moiselle ma  Cousine.  The  first  time  you  saw  me 
you  thought  me  agreeable." 

"Alas,  Monsieur  mon  Cousin!  what  signifies  the 
liking  of  a  little  country  girl  who  is  reduced  to 
the  society  of  a  cure,  a  scolding  aunt,  and  a  cross- 
grained  cook  ?  " 

"Which  means  that  you  were  nice  to  me  simply 
because  I  was  not  a  cure,  and  my  face  was  not  en- 
tirely withered  like  that  of  Madame  de  Lavalle?" 

"You  have  said  it,  fair  cousin." 

He  looked  at  me  with  fury,  twisting  his  mustache 
viciously,  and  seizing  his  hat,  threw  it  angrily  on 
the  bridge.  Oh,  how  well  I  understood  the  action 


236  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

of  his  mind!  He  was  delighted, —  delighted  to  find 
a  pretext  to  growl,  and  to  blame  me  for  his  decep- 
tion, just  as  I  had  vented  my  bitterness  on  my  terra- 
cotta men  and  the  unfortunate  Baron  Le  Maltour. 

"  Your  aunt  was  horrible,  Mademoiselle ! "  he  said 
brusquely. 

"My  beautiful  eyes  made  up  for  it,  Monsieur," 
I  answered  in  the  same  tone. 

"And  what  a  charming  table  and  lovely  service! 
Everything  was  criss-cross !  " 

"  Yes ;  but  what  a  turkey !  How  was  it  you  did  not 
die  of  indigestion?  I  really  thought  you  had,  until  I 
saw  you  here —  mon  Dicn! —  in  perfect  health." 

"  I  know  that  it  is  impossible  to  have  the  last 
word  with  you,  Mademoiselle;  I  am  not,  for  all  that, 
altogether  unbearable,  Cousin.  What  have  I  done 
to  you?" 

"  Nothing  at  all !  I  have  proved  that  by  promising 
to  accompany  your  body  to  its  last  resting-place." 

"  My  body ! "  he  cried  with  a  painful  shiver.  "  I 
am  not  yet  dead,  Mademoiselle.  Understand  that 
I  do  not  intend  to  kill  myself,  and  that  I  am  about 
to  set  out  for  Russia." 

"  Bon  voyage,  Monsieur  mon  Cousin  !  " 

He  went  away;  and  thinking  that  he  was  gone 
for  a  very  long  time,  I  crossed  my  hands  dejectedly 
and  great  tears  were  coming  to  my  eyes,  when  I 
saw  him  running  back. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  237 

"  Come,  Reine,  let  us  not  sulk,  either  of  us.  Why 
were  you  an —  Why,  are  you  crying?  " 

"I  was  thinking  of  Juno,"  I  said,  succeeding  in 
speaking  in  a  natural  tone. 

"That  is  true,  little  cousin;  you  will  be  entirely 
alone.  Let  us  shake  hands,  shall  we?  " 

"Willingly,  Paul." 

Alas!  he  did  not  kiss  my  hand;  he  only  pressed 
it  in  melancholy  fashion,  because  he  was  thinking 
of  a  fairer  hand  which  he  had  dreamed  of  possessing. 

And  he  went  away  for  good  and  all. 

Notwithstanding  the  cold,  which  I  took  no  thought 
of,  I  sat  down  near  the  bridge  in  tears,  and  lean- 
ing over  the  stream,  watched  them  fall  on  the  ice. 

"To  speak  of  blowing  out  his  brains!"  I  said, 
"he  must  love  her  prodigiously.  I  know  that  he 
will  not;  but  he  is  probably  as  infatuated  with  her 
as  I  with  him,  and  I  am  sure  that  I  could  never 
forget  him.  How  silly  it  is!  how  silly  it  is!  —  to 
fall  in  love  with  a  woman  who  is  so  ill-suited  to 
him,  while  close  at  hand  there  is  a  little  - 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  Reine?  "  said  my  uncle, 
who  had  drawn  near  without  my  having  heard  his 
step. 

I  rose  quickly,  ashamed  of  not  being  able  to  hide 
my  emotion. 

"  What !  we  are  crying !  " 

"  How  stupid  men  are,  Uncle ! " 


238  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"A  profound  truth,  my  niece!  Is  that  why  you 
are  crying? " 

"  Paul  wants  to  blow  his  brains  out,"  I  said,  weeping. 

"  Do  you  believe  him  capable  of  proceeding  to  such 
extremities?  " 

"No,"  I  answered,  smiling  in  spite  of  my  tears. 
"Violence  is  certainly  contrary  to  his  nature;  but  his 
wish  proves  that  — 

"Yes,  I  know,  my  niece.  His  wish  shows  that  he 
loves  my  daughter;  but,  believe  me,  he  will  forget 
her  very  quickly,  and  when  he  returns  here  we  will 
take  such  steps  that  his  heart  shall  not  go  astray 
again." 

"You  think,  then,  Uncle,  that  a  man  can  love 
twice  in  his  life  without  being  a  phenomenon?" 

Monsieur  de  Pavol  patted  my  cheek  and  looked  at 
me  with  a  commiseration  addressed  as  much  to  my 
inexperience  as  to  my  trouble. 

"Poor  little  niece!  The  men  who  love  only  once 
in  a  life  are  as  little  known  as  the  peak  of  Aiguille- 
Verte." 

"Then,  Uncle,  man  is  a  wretched  creature,"  I  said 
with  conviction. 

But  I  was  as  enchanted  as  indignant,  and  I  asked 
nothing  better  than  to  profit  by  the  inherent  villany 
of  human  nature. 

"  But  Juno  is  so  beautiful !  " 

"Look   at   this   bridge  which  you  are  so  fond    of, 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  239 

Reine.  Before  the  branches  and  the  plants  which 
cover  it  are  green  again,  Paul  will  have  forgotten ; 
before  the  leaves  have  had  time  to  turn  yellow  and 
fall  again,  he  will  have  returned  to  Pavol,  and  — 

He  smiled  significantly,  and  took  himself  off  with- 
out finishing  his  sentence;  while  I,  quite  startled, 
watched  him  disappear,  thinking  that  uncles  who 
predict  the  future  with  so  much  self-possession  are 
truly  singular  beings. 

"It  is  all  very  well,"  I  said,  retaking  with  slow 
steps  the  path  to  the  house;  "but  if  his  heart  changes, 
he  can  be  infatuated  with  some  woman  on  his  travels. 
And,  in  fact,  they  say  that  Russian  women  are  very 
beautiful—  He  must  be  sent  among  the  Eskimos." 

I  began  to  run  with  all  my  might,  and  reached 
the  door  of  the  chateau  just  as  the  commandant  was 
getting  into  his  carriage. 

I  took  his  arm  and  led  him  one  side. 

"Commandant,  Paul  is  going  to  Russia?  " 

"Yes;  his  journey  is  decided  on." 

"  I  thought  —  if  you  liked  that  —  in  short,  it  would 
be  better  — 

Decidedly  it  was  much  more  difficult  to  speak  out 
than  I  had  supposed.  My  pride  stood  in  the  way 
and  urged  me  to  be  silent. 

"Well,  dear  child,  speak  quickly;  I  am  freezing 
here !  " 

"  The  die  is  cast ! "  I  cried  aloud,  stamping  my  foot. 


240  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

My  pride  and  I  crossed  the  Rubicon,  and  I  said, 
dropping  my  eyes,— 

"My  dear  commandant,  I  beg  you,  advise  Paul  to 
go  among  the  Eskimos." 

"  Why  among  the  Eskimos  ?  " 

"Because  the  women  of  that  country  are  hideous, 
and  the  Russians  are  very  beautiful." 

The  good  commandant  raised  my  face,  all  red  with 
confusion,  and  answered  simply,— 

"  So  be  it ;  I  shall  advise  him  to  go  among  the 
Eskimos." 

"  How  I  love  you ! "  I  said,  tears  in  my  eyes  as  I 
pressed  his  hand.  "  But  tell  him  not  to  stay  long  in 
the  huts  of  those  good  people  and  get  ill;  it  seems 
that  there  is  a  most  atrocious  smell  — 

Seeing  my  uncle  approach,  I  fled,  saying,— 

"  Commandant,  a  man  of  honour  has  but  to  give 
his  word.  Be  sure  and  keep  yours." 

I  went  up  to  my  room  with  the  very  disagreeable 
assurance  that  I  had  followed  fully  the  example  of 
the  government,  and  that  I  had  trodden  under  foot 
all  considerations  of  dignity. 

But,  bah!  if  one  does  not  help  one's  self  a  little  in 
this  world,  how  can  one  be  able  to  take  advantage 
of  an  opportunity?  This  reflection  suppressed  my 
compunctions.  I  sat  down  at  my  secretary  and  wrote : 

"  All  is  over,  Monsieur  le  Cur£  !  They  are  married ;  they 
have  gone,  happy  and  blissful ;  and  I  would  have  given  ten 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  241 

years  of  my  existence  to  be  in  Juno's  place,  with  him  whom 
you  well  know.  When  shall  I  be  there  ? 

"  Do  you  know  what  my  uncle  said  ?  He  asserts  that  men 
who  love  only  once  in  their  life  are  as  little  known  as  the  peak 
of  Aiguille- Verte.  My  cur£,  my  dear  cur£,  I  beg  you,  pray 
to-morrow  that  Monsieur  de  Conprat  be  not  the  peak  of 
Aiguille-Verte. 

"  Au  revoir,  Monsieur  le  Cure ;  I  hope  you  will  come  soon 
to  the  living  of  Pavol." 


16 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

r  I  ""HE  only  event  of  the  end  of  the  winter  was,  in  fact, 
-*•  the  installation  of  the  cure  in  the  parish  of  Pavol, 
and  I  will  not  dwell  on  the  happiness  we  had  in  finding 
ourselves  without  fear  of  a  near  separation. 

With  what  delight  did  I  see  him  enter  the  pulpit, 
and  preach,  with  a  joyous  air,  on  the  iniquities  of  man. 
Then  he  came  to  the  chateau,  as  of  old  to  Buisson,  his 
cassock  tucked  up,  his  hat  under  his  arm,  his  hair  blow- 
ing in  the  wind. 

We  resumed  our  talks,  our  arguments,  our  disputes. 
The  time  seemed  to  me  very  long;  and  Juno's  letters, 
which  breathed  the  most  complete  happiness,  were  not 
of  a  kind  to  console  and  make  me  patient.  So  I  went 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  243 

continually  to  find  the  cure,  to  confide  to  him  my  cares, 
my  anxieties,  my  hopes,  and  my  impatience  at  the  delay 
which  I  had  to  endure. 

I  knew  that  "my  object"  had  not  in  the  least  ap- 
proved the  idea  of  going  among  the  Eskimos.  He  was 
wandering  tranquilly  about  St.  Petersburg,  and  the  beau- 
tiful Russian  ladies  frightened  me  terribly. 

"Are  you  sure  that  he  will  not  fall  in  love  with  a 
Russian,  Monsieur  le  Cure?" 

"  We  will  hope  so,  little  Reine." 

"  We  will  hope  so  !  Answer  more  categorically,  my 
cure  !  What  are  you  thinking  of  ?  Come,  it  is  not 
possible  that  he  should  fall  in  love  with  a  foreigner;  tell 
me  that  it  is  not,  and  that  he  will  love  me  some  day !  " 

"  I  hope  so  sincerely,  my  poor  little  child ;  but  you 
would  do  better  to  think  otherwise  and  act  accordingly." 

"  You  will  worry  me  to  death  with  your  resignation, 
my  dear  cure." 

"  Ah,  how  little  wisdom  you  have,  Reine  !  " 

"  W'isdom,  in  my  opinion,  consists  in  wishing  for 
happiness.  Tell  me  that  he  will  love  me,  my  cure,  I 
beg  you." 

"  I  ask  nothing  better,  my  dear  child,"  answered  the 
cure,  who,  notwithstanding  his  dread  of  physical  suffer- 
ing, would  have  been  perfectly  capable  of  following  the 
example  of  Mucius  Scaevola  and  burning  his  right  hand, 
if  my  happiness  had  depended  on  such  a  sacrifice. 

None  the  less,  notwithstanding  the  joy  of  having  my 


244  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

cur£,  notwithstanding  the  kindness  of  my  uncle  and  all 
those  about  me,  I  became  very  depressed. 

I  loved  to  wander  alone  through  the  paths  of  the 
wood.  I  loved  to  stay  by  the  hour  near  the  cascade, 
thinking  of  our  last  meeting,  thinking  what  I  should  do 
if  I  saw  him  appear,  bright  and  charming,  with  his  eyes 
full  of  that  look  which  had  pleased  me  so  much  at 
Buisson,  and  which  I  had  never  since  seen  in  them  for 
me. 

This  love  of  solitude  increased  day  by  day,  and  my 
melancholy  increased  in  proportion.  At  last  I  lost, 
little  by  little,  my  talkativeness ;  and  if  Monsieur  de  Pavol 
had  not  now  for  a  long  time  believed  in  the  sincerity  of 
my  love,  this  fact  alone  would  have  proved  its  depth. 

Six  months  passed  in  this  way. 

One  day,  the  anniversary  of  my  arrival  at  Pavol,  I 
was  seated  in  the  garden  of  the  presbythe.  A  shower, 
two  hours  before,  had  refreshed  the  air  and  bathed  the 
curb's  flowers.  He  was  amusing  himself  in  looking  for 
snails;  while  I,  under  the  influence  of  pleasant  thoughts, 
leaned  my  head  against  the  wall  near  which  my  bench 
was  placed,  and  let  joyful  hopes  take  possession  of  me. 
The  drops  of  water,  which  bent  down  the  leaves  under 
their  weight,  alone  disturbed  my  meditations  as  they 
fell,  and  the  odour  of  the  wet  earth  recalled  the  hap- 
piest hours  of  my  life. 

From  time  to  time  the  cure  said  to  me,  — 

"  It  is  astonishing,  —  all   these   snails  !     Would   you 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  245 

believe,  Reine,  that  I  have  already  found  more  than  five 
hundred?" 

I  lifted  my  head  carelessly,  and  smilingly  watched  the 
good  cure,  who  continued  his  researches  with  ardour. 
Then  I  betook  myself  again  to  my  reveries,  and  ended 
by  falling  half  asleep. 

I  was  awakened  by  the  scraping  of  the  gate  in  the 
garden-hedge  and  the  sound  of  a  cheerful  voice  which 
gave  me  the  most  violent  start  I  ever  had. 

"Good-day,  my  dear  cur£;  how  do  you  do?  How 
pleased  I  am  to  see  you  !  And  Reine,  where  is  she?  " 

Reine  was  still  seated  in  the  same  place,  finding  it 
impossible  to  speak  or  move. 

"  Ah,  there  she  is !  "  cried  Paul,  approaching  with  long 
strides.  "  Dear  little  cousin,  how  happy  I  am,  —  mon 
Dieu,  how  happy  I  am  to  see  you !  " 

He  took  my  hand  and  kissed  it. 

I  declare  that  what  followed  was  entirely  independent 
of  my  will,  and  that  it  is  not  necessary  to  make  unkind 
inferences  with  respect  to  me. 

I  declare  that  I  fought  against  temptation  with  all  my 
might.  But  when  I  felt  his  lips  on  my  hand ;  when  I 
realized  that  the  act  was  not  inspired  by  ordinary 
gallantry,  but  by  a  deeper  feeling ;  when  I  saw  him  bend 
over  me  and  look  at  me  with  an  anxious,  singular,  affec- 
tionate expression,  a  hundred  times  more  enchanting 
than  what  I  had  dreamed  of,  —  it  was  too  much  for  my 
strength ;  and  fate,  in  which  I  have  been  a  believer  from 


246  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

that  moment,  picked  me  up  and  threw  me  into  his 
arms. 

I  had  hardly  time  to  feel  the  embrace  that  responded 
to  my  outburst.  I  took  refuge,  red  and  confused,  on 
the  bench,  hiding  my  face  in  my  hands,  not  without 
having  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  face  of  the  cure,  whose 
stupefied,  frightened,  delighted  look  came  back  to  me 
afterward. 

"  Dear  Reine,"  Paul  murmured  in  my  ear,  "  if  I  had 
known  your  secret  sooner,  I  should  not  have  stayed  so 
long  away  from  you." 

I  did  not  answer,  for  I  was  weeping. 

He  took  one  of  my  hands  by  force  and  held  it  in  his ; 
while,  overcome  by  an  attack  of  timidity  such  as  I  had 
never  had,  I  turned  my  head  aside,  trying  to  withdraw 
it. 

"  Let  me  have  it,  this  pretty  little  hand ;  it  belongs  to 
me  now.  Turn  your  head  this  way,  Reine." 

I  looked  straight  into  those  beautiful  honest  eyes 
which  smiled  at  me,  and  cried, — 

"  Heaven  be  praised  !  my  uncle  was  right;  you  are  not 
the  peak  of  Aiguille-Verte  !  " 

"  The  peak  of  Aiguille-Verte !  "  he  exclaimed, 
astonished. 

"  Yes ;  my  uncle  asserted  —  but  no  matter !  Who  told 
you  what  you  did  not  know  when  you  went  away?  " 

"  My  father,  Monsieur  de  Pavol,  and  many  things 
which  recurred  to  me  during  the  last  two  months." 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  249 

"It  is  true,  then,  that  love  attracts  love?"  I  said 
innocently. 

"  Nothing  is  more  true,  dear  little  fiancee.!" 

Oh,  the  sweet  name  !  Yes,  we  were  engaged ;  and  we 
were  silent,  while  the  cure  wept  for  joy,  the  sparrows  on 
the  roof  of  the  presbyttre  chattered  deafeningly,  and  the 
snails,  escaping  from  the  prison  where  the  cure  had 
placed  them,  ran  in  every  direction. 

Most  certainly  the  sparrow  is  not  a  fascinating  bird ; 
its  plumage  is  dull  and  ugly,  its  note  lacks  sweetness, 
and  some  persons  declare  that  it  is  a  thief  and  immoral, 
which  I  refuse  to  believe.  I  do  not  know  further  that 
snails  have  passed  for  very  poetic  animals;  it  is  none 
the  less  true  that  from  the  moment  of  which  I  am 
speaking,  I  have  adored  sparrows  and  snails. 

I  was  in  an  ecstasy ;  I  thought  myself  in  a  dream.  I 
did  not  take  my  eyes  off  him,  as  I  listened  to  the  voice 
I  loved  so  well  and  felt  my  hand  grasped  in  his.  All 
the  same,  in  spite  of  myself,  the  recollection  of  her 
whom  he  had  loved  haunted  my  mind  and  troubled  my 
joy  a  little,  though  I  did  not  dare  to  speak  of  it. 

"  My  uncle  knows  that  you  are  here,  Paul?  " 

"Yes,  I  come  from  Pavol;  and  I  wished  to  come  to 
you  absolutely  alone.  This  wet  garden,  does  it  recall 
anything  to  you,  Reine?  " 

I  did  not  answer  His  question  directly.  I  said  to  him 
only,— 


250  My  Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

"But  you  —  you  retained  a  bad  impression  of 
Buisson?" 

"  I,  indeed  !     I  never  passed  so  pleasant  an  evening." 

"  Oh,"  I  went  on,  watching  him  slyly,  "  my  aunt,  who 
was  horrible  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  not  so  horrible.  A  little  common,  perhaps ; 
but  you  seemed  only  the  more  charming  for  it." 

"  And  the  cover  so  badly  laid,  everything  criss-cross !  " 

"  I  never  dined  so  well.  That  dilapidated  interior 
made  you  appear  like  a  flower  which  seems  prettier  and 
more  delicate  because  the  plot  in  which  it  sprung  is  ugly 
and  unkempt." 

"  You  have  become  a  poet  on  your  travels,"  I  said, 
smiling. 

"  No,  not  in  the  least,  little  Reine." 

He  put  my  arm  in  his  and  led  me  aside. 

"  No,  not  a  poet,  but  your  lover.  Cousin,  hear  me ;  I 
love  you  sincerely  and  with  all  my  heart." 

I  enjoyed  the  sweet  words  and  the  look  which  accom- 
panied them,  saying  to  myself  inwardly  that  it  was  most 
fortunate  that  men  were  inconstant. 

But  the  change  appeared  to  me  unheard  of,  and  I 
could  not  help  saying, — 

"  Is  it  certain  that  you  do  not  love  her  any  more  at 
all,  at  all?" 

"Would  I  speak  as  I  have  if  it  were  not  so?"  he 
answered  seriously.  "  Have  you  not  confidence  in  my 
loyalty?" 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  251 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  I  exclaimed,  crossing  my  hands  on  his  arm 
in  an  outburst  of  affection. 

It  was  perfectly  true,  for  after  his  answer  the  image 
of  Blanche  never  rose  to  trouble  me.  I  loved  him  with- 
out a  thought  of  the  past,  of  jealousy  or  distrust ;  and  he 
deserved  this  perfect  confidence. 

"  Ah,  here  come  my  father  and  Monsieur  de  Pavol." 

"  Well,  my  niece,  what  do  you  think  of  my  pre- 
diction?" 

"  You  are  not  very  discreet,  Uncle,"  I  said,  blushing. 

"  It  was  the  commandant  who  revealed  the  secret, 
Reine  ;  he  has  known  it  for  a  long  time." 

"  Oh,  no,  only  for  eight  months." 

"  From  the  first  day  when  I  saw  you,  dear  little 
daughter." 

"Is  it  possible?" 

"And  Paul  did  not  go  at  all  among  the  Eskimos," 
added  my  uncle,  laughing. 

How  delightful  it  is  to  live  among  kind  hearts !  I  felt 
this  pleasure  keenly  as  I  saw  with  what  satisfaction  they 
all  shared  my  joy,  with  what  delicacy,  what  kindliness, 
they  jested  about  that  famous  secret  which,  without 
suspecting  it,  I  had  proclaimed  to  all  the  winds. 

Then  began  that  enchanting  time,  —  the  time  when  one 
is  engaged,  that  delicious  period  which  has  nothing  like 
it  in  life.  Nothing  can  take  the  place  of  those  hours  of 
innocent  love,  of  trust,  of  perfect  illusions,  and  of  youth- 
ful fancies.  Ah,  how  I  pity  those  who  have  never 


252  My   Uncle  and  My  Cure. 

loved  in  this  way !  How  I  pity  those  whose  folly  draws 
them  far  from  the  common  path  and  pure  affection ! 
And  as  to  that,  never,  never,  no  matter  what  may  be 
the  eloquence  of  those  who  wish  to  convince  me,  will  I 
believe  that  true  love  can  exist  without  having  respect 
as  its  basis. 

We  passed  our  days  most  delightfully  at  the  prcsby- 
tire,  under  the  chaperonage  of  the  cure.  We  watched 
him  bustling  about  his  garden,  fastening  his  plants  to 
their  stakes,  pulling  up  weeds,  and  stopping  in  his  work 
to  throw  an  inquiring  glance  in  our  direction,  in  order 
to  let  us  know  that  he  was  a  serious  mentor. 

We  smiled  at  each  other  because  we  knew  the  sever- 
ity of  our  debonair  guardian. 

I  would  go  and  fall  in  ecstasies  with  him  over  some 
flower,  shrub,  or  fruit,  and  would  say, — 

"  My  cure,  do  you  remember  the  time  when  you 
tried  to  persuade  me  that  love  was  not  the  most  charm- 
ing thing  in  the  world?" 

"  Ah,  my  little  child,  I  believe  that  Bossuet  himself 
could  not  have  convinced  you." 

"  Come,  was  I  not  right?  " 

"  I  begin  to  believe  so,"  he  would  answer  with  his 
good  and  charming  smile. 

The  day  of  my  marriage  dawned  radiant  for  me. 
Never  had  the  vault  of  heaven  seemed  more  splendid. 
Since  then  I  have  been  told  that  it  was  cloudy ;  but  I 
believe  none  of  it. 


My   Uncle  and  My  Cure.  253 

A  throng  of  friends  filled  the  church.  There  were 
whispers, — 

"  What  a  lovely  bride  !  How  happy  and  tranquil  she 
seems !  " 

It  is  true  that  I  was  surprisingly  calm. 

But  why  should  I  have  disquieted  myself?  My  most 
cherished  dream  had  come  true ;  a  future  of  happiness 
opened  before  me;  and  not  the  lightest  anxiety  came  to 
trouble  me. 

I  saw  indistinctly  some  dowagers  smiling  as  I  passed ; 
and  I  was  seized  with  a  great  compassion,  as  I  reflected 
that  they  were  too  old  to  be  married. 

The  organ  resounded  so  joyously  that  at  the  time  I 
overcame  a  little  of  my  prejudice  against  music.  The 
altar  was  adorned  with  flowers  and  dazzling  with  lights, 
and  all  the  details  of  decoration  under  the  artistic  taste 
of  Juno  charmed  the  eye. 

My  husband  put  the  wedding  ring  on  my  finger  with 
an  uncertain  hand,  biting  his  beautiful  mustache  to  hide 
his  trembling  lips.  He  was  much  more  affected  than  I, 
and  his  look  said  what  I  should  have  loved  to  have  said 
over  and  over  without  end. 

And  truly  one  might  have  searched  the  world  over, 
and  all  the  other  planets  of  the  universe,  to  find  a  face 
as  radiant  as  that  of  my  cure. 

THE    END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


WAY    31 


Form  L9-32m-8,'58(5876s4)444 


Ghftrbonnel  - 


2605 

C422M7E 

1892 


My  uncle  and 
m     our* 


NQ^  15.1959" 


3  1158005906591 


001  112150 


PQ 

2605 
CU22M7E 
1892 


zsv 


